Deal with the Dummy
by Zabbie Q
Summary: AU of "Bride of the Living Dummy": Slappy offers to help Jillian Zinman get revenge against her two sisters and their horrid doll, Mary-Ellen - for a price.
1. Chapter 1

_Goosebumps_ and its characters (c) R.L. Stine and Scholastic.

* * *

"No! Please!" Katie and Amanda jumped in front of Jillian, blocking her path. "Please, don't put her in there!" Their identical green eyes were wide with fear and misery. "She won't like it in there!"

 _Good_ , Jillian thought as she easily sidestepped them. "Mom said," she replied. She heaved Mary-Ellen, the huge, horrid doll with ugly red cheeks, over her head and used the advantage of her towering frame to shove the plastic figure onto the top shelf of the bedroom closet where the six-year-old twins would not be able to reach her. "If you want her back, just tell the truth."

Without another word, the black-haired girl turned on her heel and hurried back to her own bedroom.

 _Revenge!_

That was the one thought that crossed Jillian Zinman's mind as she closed her door and surveyed the little lizard in his tank - and the wooden dummy sprawled on the floor beneath it. Payback was due at long last, and it had to be big. Super big. It had to go beyond tying Katie's and Amanda's shoelaces together before school or just locking Mary-Ellen in the closet. They had to _suffer_.

Her heart was still pounding with anger as she approached the lizard tank - and why wouldn't it? She had almost lost Petey, thanks to those two brats. Jillian touched the smooth glass as the small animal waddled around. Just to look at him, one would never guess that the little lizard had gone through the great ordeal of being stuffed into an ugly dummy's broken mouth and into its cramped, musty belly for who knows how long. And why? Because Katie and Amanda were trying to convince her that creepy, little Slappy was really alive. She could imagine Katie and Amanda, with their infuriating giggles, grabbing the reptile without a regard to his fragile body, shoving him roughly through Slappy's lifeless jaws while Petey struggled in their grubby hands, heart racing, not understanding what was happening to him - "They are gonna pay," she growled. Even if it took her a lifetime, she would get even.

Then another image flashed through her mind: once again, she was in the Little Theater's backstage area, standing outside the dressing room of the ventriloquist, Jimmy O'James. She could see the young man rehearsing an argument, giving his dummy a raspy voice filled with bile and cruelty. Yet… though it was just an act, Jimmy looked genuinely angry and hurt in her mind's eye, scared even, as he yelled at the sneering dummy in his arms. Then, in a flash, a wooden arm swung and slammed, hard, into Jimmy's nose, causing it to bleed.

"...That's impossible," Jillian told herself, giving her thin shoulders a shake as she looked down at the grinning figure on her carpeted floor. Jimmy had said he had lost his hold on Slappy. Jillian was too old to believe in talking toys. If she thought Slappy was really alive, she might as well start believing that Mary-Ellen really had come up with the brilliant plan to give Jillian a haircut at midnight. The little dummy just had a convincing face. A very, very convincing face.

A chill passed through her. "I'm putting you away too," she said aloud to the puppet - not that he could hear her, of course. Blank eyes stared back at her green ones, but something about his face, maybe the way his brown eyebrows were shaped or how wide his red mouth stretched, always made him look like he was leering. Ignoring her crawling skin, Jillian reached down, grabbing his head - and wooden teeth instantly snapped down on her hand.

 _He isn't biting me_ , she told herself even as she bit down on a scream. _The jaws are just stuck. Just stuck…_ The pain was searing, shooting up her whole arm and sending tears to her eyes, but finally, slo-o-owly, she managed to pry her trapped hand out of his mouth.

She rubbed the raw skin, sucking air through her teeth as she studied the limp figure. Wasn't this just her luck? Slappy did not even belong to her, but she was stuck dummy-sitting the creepy little doll until Dad fixed him for her best friend, Harrison Cohen - and Dad was not even going to look at Slappy until _after_ he finished the coffee table which he had been working on for six months. Truth be told, Slappy definitely needed her father's help. His once smooth forehead had several small cracks, and his painted brown hair was chipped. A piece of wood was missing from his lower lip, making his eternal smile look even more crooked. His red-and-white checked sports jacket was damaged with buttons missing. Within the past two days alone, she had managed to get her hand caught twice in his pressurized jaws. No wonder Jimmy had dumped him.

Jillian hesitated before sticking her uninjured hand into the hole in his back, searching around for the control for his mouth. At the very least she could probably put a piece of tape over it. She used her other hand to steady him, and it was then that her fingers brushed against a thin bulge in his front pocket. She paused in her task and fished into the jacket, withdrawing a familiar scrap of paper yellowed with age. Oh, yeah. She had forgotten it was in there.

She turned it over in her hands, contemplating the strange language on it.

 _Karru marri odonna loma molonu karrano._

She studied it for a few moments. She knew from her friend Donna that _donna_ meant lady, but it all looked like gibberish. She tried sounding the words out, rolling the R's the way her Spanish teacher did, though she was sure it was not any language they taught to the average sixth grader. She shook her head. " _Mele kalikimaka_ ," she cracked, tucking the paper back into his pocket.

"You just get weirder and weirder, don't you?" she said, turning the dummy to face her. "This is the second time you bit me, you know," she told him, holding up her purpled hand in front of his blue eyes - not that he could actually see it, she reminded herself. Her teeth gritted behind her scowl. "The girls are lucky that you didn't snap down on Petey when he crawled out of your mouth. If they'd killed him - " Her throat suddenly became tight.

The thirst for revenge returned to her. She often went to sleep plotting ways to get back at those two, from hiding bugs in their beds to using Mary-Ellen for a campfire in the backyard, but none of them felt big enough, mean enough. This time, though, she was not going to let them get away with it. "They're gonna suffer," she declared. "I mean, _really_ suffer. You can't do that to a living being, even if they do hate lizards." She exhaled. "I don't suppose you have any ideas, Slappy?"

He did not say anything - of course, he did not - but his round eyes flashed, and his crooked smile seemed to grow sneakier - no, no, that was just a trick of the light. "Okay, into the closet, Slappy."

She grabbed his arms, careful to avoid his head this time. She had intended just to toss him into the tiny closet, but another look at his disheveled appearance made her set him gently on the floor by her dress shoes, careful to lean him into the corner with his right ear against the wall. Even if he did creep her out, he was still Harrison's property. Besides, if Slappy was further damaged, that would just take Dad even longer to fix him.

Jillian quickly slid the door shut and let out of a long breath. She made an immediate beeline to the lizard tank on the table and pulled Petey into her arms, holding the leathery, little creature close. She gave his tiny head a kiss. "They're not gonna hurt you ever again," she promised him, scratching his chin. Petey leaned into her fingertips with drooping eyelids, his trimmed claws gripping a chunk of her straight black hair.

She walked around the room with him, jiggling him on her shoulder as if he were an infant, and it was then that she spotted the abandoned shopping bags from The Magic Place still on the floor. She and Harrison had gone to the magic store after school to stock up on tricks for the birthday party that weekend. Ever since the field trip to the circus back in the first grade, Jillian had dreamed of becoming a clown when she grew up, and this party would be her first real job. Mom and Dad had already been working on her and Harrison's costumes for days, and the trick playing cards and squirting pie pans from the magic shop were perfect, and she had brought them home full of excitement - and the bags had fallen from her hands the moment she had walked into her room and saw Slappy standing over Petey's tank...

...Though it had been silly for her to think that Slappy could do anything to the lizard. It had been Katie and Amanda who messed with Petey. She had just let herself be spooked by Jimmy O'James, who was really, really talented and could do two parts of a rehearsed argument and chose to act like he was scared of his dummy. For comedy. Or something.

Then an image flashed across her mind: Jimmy O'James coming out of the magic store with bags in his hands. Jillian had run after him, telling him that they had found his dummy, and his young face had become terrified. "Get rid of him!" he had begged her. "Please! Get rid of him - before it's too late!"

Why would he say that?

She glanced again at her closet and held Petey a little closer. Maybe when Harrison came over the next day to practice their clown routine for the birthday party that weekend, she could then tell him to take Slappy home with him.

* * *

After dinner Mom told Jillian to supervise the twins while they cleaned their room as part of their punishment.

"We didn't even mess with that dumb lizard," Katie griped, stomping up the stairs.

"You can't prove we did either," Amanda added, but both of them grew silent under their mother's icy gaze.

For half an hour the girls grumbled and shuffled their feet as they sorted through identical pairs of toys and clothes; every birthday and Christmas a bunch of their relatives thought it was cute to get them two of everything, but that meant their bedroom was overflowing with junk. Of course, they had to pick everything up, turn it over, argue over which one of them owned what because the initials Mom had put on the bottom were now smudged, and then debate on where it ought to go, and no, Amanda couldn't put her stuff with Katie's, and Amanda retaliated with saying that Katie needed to get her dirty socks away from her bed, or she'd put gum in her hair, and then Katie pointed out that she didn't have gum in the first place, and then they would move onto the next toy, and the whole process started again. On and on it went until Jillian could not take it anymore.

"Let's hurry this up," she ordered, grabbing two identical pink teapots and opening the closet to toss them in. She started to turn to grab the sugar bowls next, but then she caught sight of a little shoe dangling in the air. There was Mary-Ellen sitting against the wooden wall on the shelf above her head, her violet glass eyes staring off into the distance. Jillian frowned. She distinctly remembered putting Mary-Ellen face-down. "Mom said you can't have her back yet," Jillian scolded, spinning around to face her sisters.

"We didn't move her," Katie insisted, sticking out her tongue. "She just doesn't like being in the closet."

Jillian glared. She should have known. It was easy for one of them to stand on the other's shoulder to reach the doll. "You guys touch her again, and I'm telling Mom. Maybe she'll lock her up in Dad's workshop next. Or put her through the buzz saw."

"She would not!" Katie squawked.

"We didn't touch her!" Amanda insisted. "You just hate Mary-Ellen."

"She hates you too!" Katie chorused. "She says you'll be sorry for the way you treat her!"

"Well, good," Jillian replied dryly. "Then we understand each other."

It took another fifteen minutes, but they were finally done, and then Mom sent the girls to take their bath before bed. Jillian strode back to her room and dropped a few dead flies in Petey's tank as treat before she grabbed her backpack, pulling out her math homework with a grimace. She hated three-digit multiplication, and she always saved it for last, but as she stared at the worksheet, she found it harder to concentrate than usual.

After all that had happened, she could not believe they would try to retrieve Mary-Ellen so soon. They could not even wait a night? Did they really hate Petey so much that they were going to keep acting like an inanimate object had sprung to life and tried to eat him? If they had not wanted her to notice that they had touched their doll, they would have put her back the way they found her instead of sitting her up straight, so were they going to try to convince Jillian that Mary-Ellen was alive now too? Maybe they would try to claim Mr. Beanie the stuffed dog ate her homework next.

Jillian rapped her pencil, rereading the same problem for the third time, but another ugly thought presented itself.

...Slappy was still there, right?

She stood and - thinking quickly - grabbed her heavy backpack tightly, holding it in her hand like a club. She crept to the other side of the room, careful not to make a sound, and - with bated breath - threw open the sliding door.

The dummy grinned back at her, his eyes askance, his head rolled to his left. She let out a sigh. This was getting ridiculous. "Don't let them get to you, Jillian," she told herself, giving the dummy a rap on his painted hair, causing his head to slide forward, touching his left shoulder. Jillian started to straighten, but then she stopped. ...Didn't she lean him the other way?

Suddenly, her bedroom telephone exploded into a ring, causing her to start. She slammed the sliding door shut and quickly picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Did your dad finish his table yet?" a boy's voice replied eagerly.

"Fine, Harrison. How are you?" she cracked.

Harrison did not seem to notice her sarcasm. "I've been thinking. Do you think he _has_ to finish table first?" he pressed. "Or do you think he might stop long enough to fix Slappy before the party this weekend?"

Jillian frowned. "No way. We're gonna be clowns, Harrison, not ventriloquists."

"I thought Jimmy O'James was pretty funny," he returned, undeterred. Harrison loved puppetry and had collected films from _The Muppet Movie_ to _Return of the Jedi_. Of course, _he_ would think that ugly dummy was awesome. "I liked the one joke where Slappy said he was going to give him a compliment and then told him he stunk. 'That's not a compliment, Slappy.' 'I know. I lied!'" He spoke in a hoarse voice, trying to imitate Jimmy's portrayal of the dummy, but it was not quite shrill enough. "Do you like that?" he asked eagerly. "I've been practicing not moving my lips all weekend."

"You're the master," Jillian drawled, "but we're still clowns, _Zappy_. My parents are almost done with our costumes, and you're getting fifteen bucks for this," she reminded him - yet again.

"But maybe if we do a really, really good job, we'll get paid double at the party," he suggested, and from the sound of his voice, she could picture his big, serious face grimacing. As easygoing as Harrison was, he never really liked the idea of being a clown: maybe it was because he had gotten sick on the bus ride to the circus during that first-grade field trip and had had to go home early.

"I don't think that's how it works, Harrison," she laughed with a shake of her head, though he could not see it.

"But if we do a really good job, other people will want to hire us, right?" he pressed. "We should come prepared."

Jillian sighed. "I don't really want to use Slappy," she muttered. "Especially not after what the twin terrors pulled today."

"What do you mean?" he asked. She then told him what happened with Petey, and she heard him draw in a long breath. "Man, I knew your sisters were evil, but that's just wrong!"

"I'm really going to get back at them this time," she declared, starting to pace with the telephone cord in her hand.

"Maybe we can fill a bucket with water and put it on their door?" he offered helpfully.

"No way. Mom would flip out, and then **_we'd_** have to clean the mess up."

"Maybe we can get some more tricks from the magic shop," he suggested. "Maybe they have those eyepieces that leave black marks."

"Sounds kinda babyish. Besides, I spent most of my money on the squirting cards and the pie surprise," she admitted. "We won't be able to get a really good trick until _after_ we get paid." This was always her problem. Either none of her revenge plots ever seemed good enough, or they were pipe dreams, just out of her reach.

"We'll plan a battle strategy tomorrow," he promised. "We could probably come up with a gazillion ideas if we put our heads together."

"After we work on our clown act," she interjected.

"Yeah. After."

"Good night, Zappy," she said sweetly. He made a sound of disgust and hung up.

The math problems were still waiting for her, so she sat down at her desk and tried to force herself to focus, but the bruise on her writing hand ached every time she flexed her fingers, and she found her gaze drifting toward the closet door.

A chill passed through her. "Tomorrow, you're outta here, Slappy," she said aloud - not that he could hear her.

* * *

A cold hand clutched her mouth, jerking her out of sleep. Her eyes flew open to the darkness, and her hands lashed out and struck a rigid object atop her chest, but her body immediately tensed as a hard thumb pressed against her throat.

"Don't scream," a shrill, raspy voice hissed in her ear - a very familiar voice. "I'm going to take my hand away now, Jillian. If you make so much as a peep that I don't like, this is going to end very, very badly. Do you understand me?"

Every instinct in her cried for her to swing her arms and hurl the intruder off her, but the pressure on her throat tightened. With a racing heart, she nodded slowly. She felt the weight shift from her chest and onto her pillow, and she scrambled to her knees - but not before that hard, tiny hand grabbed hold of her wrist.

"Don't scream," the raspy voice warned again.

Her free hand flew to the bed-table lamp and, fumbling, found the switch. The small burst of yellow light turned the darkness into a sea of strange of shadows, and she was met by a pair of icy blue eyes. Chipped chiseled lips that always seemed to be curled into a cruel sneer were now frowning at her.

Finally, she found her voice. "You're alive."

"I was hoping for something a little more original," Slappy cracked, shaking his brown head. Under other circumstances Jillian might have laughed to see a little guy like him trying to look so intimidating when his checkered sports jacket was disheveled and missing two buttons, but any humor was sucked away by that hard glare and the tight hold on her wrist. Instantly, the words of Jimmy O'James came flooding back to her. _Get rid of him! Please! Get rid of him - before it's too late!_

"You're alive," she breathed again.

"I see we have a quick wit," he said dryly. His eyes zipped up and down her tall, thin frame as if he were sizing her up before his gaze came to rest on her face. "Maybe I was wrong about you," he mused, rubbing his chin. "How unfortunate."

Her entire body began to tremble as her mind reeled. Slappy was alive. Slappy was in her room. Alive. Slappy was on her bed, holding her prisoner in her own room. And he was alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. The room began to spin around her. She had to do something. She had to break free and run into her parents' room, to warn them. She had to - had to -

Then, through the whirlwind of turbulent emotions - horror, disbelief, fascination, doubt - one glaring truth stood out, sweeping the mental fog away. Jillian glowered at him, gritting her teeth. "You **_did_** bite me, you little creep!" she cried, giving her arm a firm yank, but it was fruitless. Despite his size, Slappy proved to be a lot stronger than he looked, and her struggle only seemed to amuse him.

"Did I?" he asked innocently.

"Well, I didn't get this from Mary-Ellen," she shot back, turning her captive arm over to show him the bruised palm.

Slappy glanced down, and to her surprise, he actually looked disgusted. "As fun as that sounds, trust me, doll face. I'm just as in the dark as you - or I would be, if my I.Q. were room temperature," he sneered. "All I know is one moment I'm talking with that double-crossing partner of mine, then you come snooping into the dressing room; Jimmy knocks me out, and I wake up in your bedroom while you go on about some lizard being in my mouth. Care to clue me in on that one, sweetheart?" A smirk suddenly appeared. "Or were you unable to resist my good looks and just **_had_** to take me home?"

"Gross!" Jillian gagged, tugging again, but then she stopped as what he said sank in. "...Wait, you've been out for two whole days?"

"Am I speaking Japanese?" he replied impatiently. "Frankly, I don't like the idea of reptiles being shoved into my face while I'm asleep, so don't spare the details, sister," he demanded, jerking her arm.

Jillian pulled back. "Let go of me," she ordered.

"Why? So, you can wake the whole house up?" he growled, tugging her closer to him until their faces were inches apart. "We both know that nobody's gonna believe you, so why don't we do this the easy way, dreamy eyes? Start talking."

She tried to pull again, but his grip remained firm, and his other hand came up and grabbed her shoulder. He had strange strength, and being on her knees meant she was stuck in this curled position. Jillian's mind raced. Maybe if she swung her arm hard enough, she could hurl him into the bedroom wall. Then she could scream for her parents, and they would come running, and -

His wooden hand tightened on her flesh. "Do I need to repeat myself?"

She glared at him, heart pounding with adrenaline as she stared into his sharp eyes, but her options were sadly limited at that moment, so she took a deep breath and began the story. She started with how her best friend, Harrison, had found him in the trash after Jimmy and Slappy's performance on the previous Saturday and how Harrison had dropped the dummy off at the Zinman house for her father to fix him. Then, of course, she had to explain the situation with Petey from earlier that afternoon, which meant she had to tell him how her six-year-old twin sisters were always pulling pranks on her, even blaming some of them on Mary-Ellen, and how they had propped Slappy up and put the poor lizard inside him, just to be mean. Fortunately, Mom had actually punished them, for once, and Jillian got to lock Mary-Ellen in the closet. Slappy listened intently the entire time, his blue eyes narrowed in thought as his crossed leg tapped steadily against her mattress.

He was silent long after she finished, obviously lost in his own little world even as he kept a tight hold on her wrist. Fortunately, he had released her shoulder, allowing her to sit back on her heels, and she took the moment to look him over. He was already an ugly little thing with his abnormal little-boy face, exaggerated cheekbones, and crooked red lips, but now… he was downright unsettling. The long shadows which her bedroom lamp could not chase away only served to make the elongated curves of his sculpted visage seem even more unnatural, more uncanny. The carved smile was now a grimace, as if his face were as malleable as clay. Even when he was deep in thought, his face seemed angry, cruel even - though, she thought with reluctant charity, she would probably have been less than thrilled to find out what the twins had done if she were in his place. And she thought the girls sneaking into her room at midnight to give her a haircut was bad.

"So, you've been asleep?" she asked, finally breaking the silence.

He blinked, slowly turning his head. "Yep."

"How?"

He hesitated and leaned forward. "Can you keep a secret?" he whispered, his wide eyes suddenly intense.

She nodded, sliding herself closer.

"So can I." A grin split his face, and he threw his head back and broke into a shrill laugh. That would replace the spider monster in her nightmares.

Jillian gave a great tug, and he finally released his hold. She rubbed her wrist, trying to look stern despite the knots in her stomach. If she did this right, she could jump off the bed and be down the hall and in her parents' room in five seconds - ten, if she could grab Petey on the way out.

Slappy shifted on her pillow, and his glittering eyes grew serious. "So, your sisters, they were those two squirts that came onstage with that hideous doll during my act?" Jimmy O'James had called for volunteers during the show, and Katie and Amanda had already started to run up the aisle, dragging their doll along, before the ventriloquist could look cross-eyed at the sea of raised hands.

Jillian nodded, sliding her feet slowly out from under her, careful to keep the hem of her nightshirt by her knees. Make it look natural. "You called them the Gruesome Twosome," she remembered.

"One of my best lines," he bragged, dusting his ligneous fingertips against his chest.

"Actually, I thought it was mean," she replied, inching a little closer to the edge of the bed. Her knees felt funny from sitting on them too long, but maybe it would go away in a few seconds. Despite the urgency, she could not resist adding, "You made Amanda cry." She remembered the way her heart had beat hard as she watched both of her little sisters be humiliated in front of a theater full of kids by the rude dummy. Amanda teared up at any negativity, and Katie became downright vengeful, and the two had run off to find Jimmy O'James to make him apologize - which was how Jillian had walked in on the ventriloquist's argument with Slappy. "Can't you tell any nice jokes?"

Slappy rolled his eyes. "You sound like Jimmy," he drawled. "Are you really gonna get upset that your sister couldn't take a joke when she almost killed your little friend today?" He nodded to the tank across the room where Petey was sprawled in his favorite corner, his belly rising and falling with the steady rhythm of sleep. "Frankly, I say she had it coming."

Jillian frowned. "I can handle her." Her knees were starting to feel better bit by bit. Her long legs could probably reach Petey in five steps. Just a little closer to the edge...

"And you're doing such a great job at it," he said dryly. He crossed his arms over his skinny chest. "Aren't you even a little tired of them walking all over you, Jillian? I've only met them once, and even **_I'm_** already mad at how they treat a sweet girl like you. They should respect their big sister." He shook his head. "Believe me, darlin', I know what it's like. I had a brother, back in the day. Mr. Wood, they called him - Woody for short." A shudder suddenly rippled through his body, causing his wooden joints to rattle. "That guy was evil incarnate. Made me scared to even blink. I had to play dead all day because he'd come after me if he knew I was awake."

That made Jillian stop. A shadow had crossed the dummy's face, and his hard eyes became troubled. He gave his brown head another shake as if that would erase away whatever memories that rampaged his mind. "Slappy, that's awful," she breathed.

"So, you can see I understand what you're going through, doll face," he said with meaningful look. "They ought to treat you better. So, you can either run out that door, like you're so obviously planning to do, and make your parents think you're crazy by telling them a dummy is alive in your bedroom, or you can do something about your problem."

Jillian went still. _Run for it!_ her mind screamed. _He'll never catch you on those skinny, little legs!_ Even so, another part of her brain told her that that would end very badly.

"Well? Are you gonna sit there catching flies?" he demanded. "Or are there some brains in that pretty head of yours?"

Her eyes narrowed. "How could you even help me? You have to stand up to tie your shoelaces," she snapped.

His scowl deepened. "Fine! Maybe I _won't_ help you then. Maybe I'll just leave you and your lizard to your sisters' mercies. But this was all _your_ idea, you know. I don't offer my services to just anyone."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded.

"Don't you remember earlier? You said you wanted to get back at your sisters, and you asked if I had any ideas." He settled back against the headboard with a genial grin - which still managed to look creepy on his ugly face. "Lucky for you, Jillian, you are in the presence of the world's best prankster, and I'm in a very generous mood. You should ask my old friend, Amy Kramer. She had trouble with her older sister until I came along and helped. We sure made ol' Sara _SEE RED_ by the time I was done," he added with a chuckle. "Just give me a few weeks, and your sisters will never look at you cross-eyed again."

She shook her head. "Forget it."

The sweet smile twitched into a frown. "Why not?"

"Because I don't trust you," she replied. "You were rude to my sisters, and you hit Jimmy, and you hurt me." She pointed to her throat.

"It was part of my act," he began to list back with a scowl. "Jimmy told you it was an accident, and I had to make sure I could trust you. You know what it's like to be a living dummy in a world full of scared, stupid humans?" he demanded. "What if your parents called some scientists to take me away? I'd be in some basement lab for the rest of eternity, so forgive me if I take some precautions first."

Jillian hesitated. That did make sense. ...But even so, she could still see Jimmy O'James terrified face onstage - and his horror in the parking lot.

At her silence, Slappy threw up his hands. "Fine! You hear that, Petey?" he asked, turning towards the sleeping lizard. "Jillian doesn't care enough about you. If you die, she'll just get another pet and forget all about you. That's loyalty for ya!"

"Hey!" she barked. "I ** _love_** Petey." Despite her nerves, she wanted to slap that condescending look off his face. How dare he sit there and put words in her mouth like he knew her. She had raised Petey since he was a baby - he _was_ her baby! Just because she did not want to strike a deal with a creepy mannequin did not mean she loved her lizard any less.

His cold eyes met her flaring glare. "Then _do something_ about it, Jillian. Or do your sisters have to set the house on fire next?"

"They would never -"

"Like they 'would never hurt a living thing'?" he shot back. "One trick goes wrong, and you're left with nothing. Stand up for yourself, girl."

Jillian shook her head, but even as she turned away, she found herself considering his words. How many nights had she put herself to sleep dreaming of ways to get back at her sisters and their hideous doll? The twins had always had a mischievous streak, but ever since Dad had brought Mary-Ellen home, they had become downright cruel. When they did not ignore Jillian in favor of their new "sister," they pulled pranks and claimed it was their doll's idea, and Mom and Dad never stopped them because it was _so-o-o-o_ cute - and they never took her side when she tried to fight back. "Don't retaliate, Jillian," they would tell her. " _You're_ the big sister. _You_ have to set the example." Sure, they had finally punished the girls when they went after a defenseless animal, but what about the day-to-day trouble she had to deal with, thanks to those two? When was _that_ going to stop?

Jillian sat back on her heels and turned to face the dummy. "What did you have in mind?" She was not going to commit, she told herself. She was just asking.

His grin returned. "We-e-ell, that's where it gets interesting, kid," he said, leaning against her headboard. "You can't get something for nothing, you know. I help you out; you help me out. Even steven."

Of course, there would be a catch. "What do you want?" she asked slowly.

His round eyes glittered. "Something precious."

Of course. "I don't have anything," she protested.

"Don't you?" he returned sweetly.

"Everything I own is in this room," she said, sweeping her hands toward the bookshelf over her desk, the lizard tank by the far wall, the posters of mountain landscapes and of circus performers on her cream-colored walls, her dresser and vanity mirror, her private telephone, and the bin where she kept her cassette tapes. She tried to rack her brain for anything she owned that a dummy could possibly want, but unless he was interested in her collection of Bugs Bunny videos, she could think of nothing. Then, suddenly, one horrible thought crossed her mind, and though it pained her, it was the only thing she could possibly offer. She drew herself up and said, "I can give you the money I'm getting this weekend for working a birthday party. I have to split it with Harrison, but that's fifteen all for you."

Slappy scoffed. "Oh, sure. I think I'll head down to the movies this weekend. Maybe swing by McDonald's on the way home. I'm sure I'll blend in with the rest of middle-class America."

She threw up her hands. "Well, this isn't exactly Buckingham Palace, you know," she retorted. "What could you possibly want?"

A sweet smile appeared. "A favor."

She quirked an eyebrow. That was too easy. "That's all?"

"That's all," he promised. "When you decide you're done with the pranks, however long that takes, then I'll collect. Even you can understand _that_ , right?"

There was no way it could be that easy. She looked him up and down. What could he possibly need help with? "You're not gonna ask me to help you rob a bank, are you?" she asked suspiciously.

He gave her a look. "Cute."

Yeah, that _was_ a silly idea, she admitted to herself. "Then what?"

"I'll decide when it's time," he said with a noncommittal shrug. "You don't have to worry, doll face. My needs are simple, and my desires few. I will never ask you to do something I know you're not physically capable of performing."

She still did not like the sound of that, but, then, what could a talking dummy want in life? Wood polish? Anti-termite spray? Like he said, he could not just walk into a store to get it, and a human's help would probably be useful. "And you won't hurt the girls, will you?"

His mouth twitched. "Not unless you ask."

"I won't," she returned. Not that she was agreeing to anything. "And you're really good at pranks? Like, better than tying shoelaces together?"

He drew an X over his chest. "Satisfaction guaranteed. When we're done, you'll be able to say, 'Jump!' and the twins will ask, 'Into which lake?' - if you want them to." He held out his small wooden hand. "Partners?"

Jillian hesitated. Once again, she saw Slappy's ligneous fist slamming into his partner's face, and she saw Jimmy, clutching a tissue to his bleeding nose, laughing it off as an accident - and yet he could not get away from the dummy fast enough. _Get rid of him! Please! Get rid of him - before it's too late!_

But then she saw another image, this time of poor Petey wiggling his way out of Slappy's mouth, and she imagined the blinding pain she had personally experienced from those snapping jaws cutting into his little body, and her blood began to boil. If Katie and Amanda had made Slappy crush him...

She grabbed the proffered hand and gave it a firm shake. "Deal."

His blue eyes glittered as he gave her hand a small squeeze, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary. "You should get some sleep, doll face."

That brought her crashing back to reality, and she stared helplessly at the dummy, who seemed very comfortable on her pillow. What was she going to do with him **_now_**?

* * *

She cast a quick glance around her room. She could tell it would be a bad idea to suggest he sleep in the closet, but there was no way he was going to share the bed with her, even if he _was_ just a doll - a living, talking, leering doll. "Let me make you a bed," she suggested quickly, jumping to her feet.

His ugly grin widened. "You're very nice, Jillian. Maybe you'll get extra lucky this week."

It took her a little time, but she got the big suitcase from the top shelf of her closet. She slid it against her dresser, grabbed the extra pillow from her bed and stuffed it inside, angling it so that one end came up onto the lip, forming a head support for him. A clean blue towel from the bathroom closet made an easy blanket.

She turned her head to see him watching, one arm resting against her bed frame, cracked head propped up by the heel of his hand, but his eyes were not on his new bed.

She cleared her throat. "How's that?"

He slowly slid off her comforter onto the floor and bent down to inspect her creation. One hand tested the pillow while his other fingers felt the fluffy towel. He snorted. "Eat your heart out, Motel Six."

"Well, you can always sleep down in Dad's workshop with the table saw," Jillian retorted. ...Actually, that was not a bad idea.

Slappy shot her an ugly look. "It'll do, sweetheart," he grumbled, lifting the edge of the bath towel. "For now."

It was a little funny to see him, fully dressed with his red-and-white bowtie and shiny black shoes on, climb into the little bed, wiggling his slender body to get comfortable. He closed his eyes as if that would help him find the right spot, and Jillian bit back a laugh at his scrunched-up face. When he was not smirking, leering, or glaring, he actually had an ugly kind of cuteness to him, sort of like a pug dog - but that charitable thought vanished in a puff of smoke as soon as those blue eyes opened again.

He winked at her. "Can't take your eyes off me?"

She shuddered. "Here," she said, thinking quickly. "Let's make it a canopy bed." She reached into her closet and grabbed the first piece of clothing her hand touched, which turned out to be the red dress her mother had bought her for school-picture day. She used her hairbrush as a weight to keep the top half on the dresser and draped the fabric over the bed, blocking the dummy from sight.

Wasting no time, she climbed back into bed. She glanced at her clock. It was well past midnight. "Comfy?" she called.

"It's a start," he replied, and she heard the pillow rustle as if he were snuggling down. "We'll talk about upgrading to cozier accommodations later, slav- Jillian."

From this angle, she couldn't even see the suitcase, just the slope of the red fabric. That was when the absurdity of the situation hit her. She had a walking, talking dummy sleeping in a suitcase in her bedroom with her best dress as a curtain because her little sisters shoved a lizard into his mouth. A walking, talking, scowling, insult-spewing dummy would be in her room all night. In the dark. With her.

It took all her strength to turn off the light. She threw the covers over her head, squeezing her eyes tight - as if she was going to get any sleep **_now_**.

"Jillian?" His hoarse voice came out of the darkness, causing her to jerk.

She sucked in a quick breath and raised her head. "Yes, Slappy?"

"There's something I should probably tell you."

"What's that?"

"That dumb doll with your sisters. Where did they get it?"

"Dad brought her home from a yard sale." Despite her apprehension, she could not resist adding, "Why? You think she's cute?"

"Oh, gag me with a spoon!"

Jillian pressed her hand to her lips, giggling silently into her fingertips. "So, what about dumb Mary-Ellen?" she asked when she could trust herself.

His raspy answer came back brisk and businesslike. "You should know that she's probably alive."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Advice is appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

"My, you're up early, Jillian," Mom began approvingly, but then her dark eyebrows quirked. "Did you get dressed in the bathroom?"

Jillian tucked her purple nightshirt under one arm and quickly sidestepped her mother. "Just saving myself time," she lied.

"Well, you have plenty of time for a good breakfast for once, sleepy-head," her mother teased, patting Jillian's black head as she passed.

Jillian hurried back into her bedroom and stuffed her nightshirt into the top drawer - and forced herself not to look at the cross-legged figure on her bed. Instead she concentrated her attention on the tired green eyes staring back at her in the mirror. She had actually woken up that morning hoping she had only dreamed of last night - but then she had rolled over, only to spot the dummy sitting next to Petey's tank with that perpetual smile on his wooden face.

 _This is actually happening,_ she thought as she ran a comb through her long hair. Then, even though her body felt funny from the lack of sleep, a smile began to form. This was _actually_ happening. Payback was finally in her grasp. She was really going to do it this time - and Slappy had promised _multiple_ pranks, all in exchange for just one little favor. She would not only make Katie and Amanda regret ever messing with Petey, but she also would be able to make up for _all_ those tricks the twins had pulled in the past, like doodling clown-eating monsters in her notebooks, setting up Halloween masks in her closet, and using Slappy to scare her in the middle of the night. If she could finally taste that delicious revenge, it would actually be worth it to put up with the creepy, little dummy.

It was then that she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and she turned to see Slappy's fixated gaze.

Again. "Will you stop looking at me?" she snapped.

"Why?" he sneered. "Everything _else_ in this room is an eyesore."

She pulled her straight hair into a half-up ponytail and combed the free area. "Says the puppet wearing a tablecloth."

His cold eyes flashed. "Well, I can't expect _you_ to appreciate good taste, little girl," he sniffed, flicking his checkered lapels with all the injured dignity of a dandy. "What's with all the circus pictures anyway?" he asked, gesturing to the souvenirs above her bed.

Jillian gave a sigh. "I get a poster when the circus comes every year," she explained. Well, except for this past year, when the twins had disappeared. It had been the first time Mom and Dad had trusted her to take the twins anywhere by herself, and they had gotten through the entire performance with little incident - and then as they had joined the exiting masses, she had turned around, and they had vanished. She had frantically searched for them, scared that they might have been hurt or lost as she called for them, tore through the concession stands, flagged down the clean-up crew who were ready to call the police to come search - only for them to have been hiding behind the bleachers the whole time, giggling at her panic attack. "I'm gonna be a clown when I grow up," she added, shaking off the memory.

He snorted. "Really, kid, you're too young to throw your life away."

"Ha-ha. Remind me to laugh." Even the dummy heckled her. She shrugged her backpack onto her shoulders. "For your information, I already have two birthday parties lined up, this weekend and next."

"Probably because you're cheaper than buying all those kids sedatives," he cracked.

Jillian shot him a glare. "You haven't even seen me in action, Bozo."

"Well, if your act is anything like your comebacks, those kids will be bored to tears," he sneered and threw his head back with a shrill laugh.

Jillian winced at the sound, resisting the urge to cover her ears. There was no way she would ever get used to that, and she wondered again how Jimmy had put up with him without earplugs. At least she could go down to breakfast and leave him in here. All day.

She turned away from her mirror and started for the door - but then she gave a reluctant sigh and stepped over to her desk. She grabbed a few books from the shelf on the wall above and laid them out on the bed. "If you get bored while I'm at school, you can read these," she offered. "You know, if you like any of them."

He took one look at the titles and made a face. " _Animorphs_ , _Bunnicula_ , _Shivers_ ," he read aloud. "Move over, Shakespeare! All we're missing is a _Nancy Drew_ mystery and _Little House on the Prairie_."

Jillian folded her arms. "Well, you can always go down the hall to the twins' room and see if Mary-Ellen will let you watch T.V. with her," she shot back. "I _am_ trying to be nice to you, you know."

His ugly face darkened, and for a moment, Jillian remembered Jimmy O'James on the stage of the Little Theater, his face breaking out into sweat as the dummy on his lap began to hurl insult after insult at him. Slappy opened his mouth - but promptly seemed to think better of it and settled back against her headboard. "And for that, I'm choosing to let the tablecloth crack slide, doll face," he growled, folding his arms. "This once."

She pressed her palms together and bowed her head. "Thank you, sahib," she cracked, even as her heart pounded. She was about to leave him to his boredom, but he looked so disgusted as he picked up one paperback with two fingers that, in spite of her anger - and the knot in her stomach - Jillian could not help feeling a little sorry for him. In any case, it served her best interest to keep him occupied. "Look," she said slowly, "if you tell me what books you like, maybe I can pick something up from the library on the way home."

"I don't think they'll let kids walk out with those kinda books." Suddenly, he brightened, a wicked grin forming. "Leave me a phone book, and I might make some calls," he suggested, casting a gleeful glance at her telephone.

 _Fat chance_. Jillian gave him a look. "You're not planning to ask people if they have Prince Albert in a can, are you?"

He snorted. "Please, I'm a _professional_ ," he declared.

However, since a lengthy discussion with her father after he took a look at next month's phone bill was about as appealing as dental surgery, Jillian decided it was best to change the subject. She sat down beside him, causing his little body to bounce. "Speaking of pranks, what are we gonna do about my sisters and Mary-Ellen?"

He gave her a smug smile. "I'm already twelve steps ahead of you, sister. I could send the kiddies to the funny farm right now if I chose, but we'll take it slow. Let you savor that sweet taste of revenge."

That was the first thing he had said all morning that made her grin. "What did you have in mind?" she asked eagerly.

"Take me downstairs."

Jillian stopped short. "Wait, **_now_**?" she protested. "I have to go to school soon."

"No time like the present," he chirped, climbing to his feet. "Besides, if I _really_ want to prank your sisters, I gotta get a feel for how they think without Mary-Ellen catching on to our little secret." Living dolls were very territorial of their humans, or so he had told her, and if Mary-Ellen knew Slappy was awake, she might try to do something about it. "She's still in the closet, right?"

Jillian shuddered, gripping her backpack straps. "Ought to be." A territorial doll who had been alive for months in her house. A leering dummy who was helping her plot revenge against the doll.

There would be no way she would ever be able to watch _Toy Story_ again after this.

Slappy held up his arms, beckoning her towards him with snapping fingers. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! I can't exactly _walk_ down the stairs with you, can I?"

She choked back a gag and got to her feet. He stepped into her arms, and she put one hand around his skinny waist and used the other to support his knees, holding his cold, stiff body in an awkward bridal carry. She tried to pretend he was just her little brother; he was almost the size of the twins anyway. Maybe she could imagine that he had been separated from them at birth, and he had some disease that made it necessary for her to carry him around. Then there would be nothing creepy about this arrangement in the slightest, nope, nope, nope.

"Careful with the merchandise, doll face," he said with a chuckle, obviously amused by her discomfort as he slipped an arm around her neck - which was really not necessary, now that she thought of it.

She firmly grabbed his arm and tucked it over his chest. "Make it look natural," she told him sweetly.

He only smirked.

* * *

Mom was still helping the twins get ready, and Dad was printing out papers for work from the computer in the bedroom, so they had the kitchen to themselves. Jillian quickly set the wooden puppet on the counter and dumped her backpack on a chair. "So, what now?"

"Fix yourself breakfast and wait for them to come downstairs," he instructed.

She quirked an eyebrow. "What are we going to do?"

His ugly grin widened. "You'll see-e-e-e," he sang.

She hunted down a bowl and spoon for her Frosted Flakes and retrieved the milk. She glanced again at Slappy to make sure he was not following her with his gaze, but now he seemed interested in the photographs Mom had posted on the side of the fridge, particularly the Zinman-family Christmas cards from last year. She began to pour - and suddenly a new idea struck her. The twins were always bringing Mary-Ellen to the dinner table, claiming she liked the taste of Mom's cooking, and they had even made Jillian buy a chocolate-vanilla swirl cone from Dairy Queen for her the other day. Jillian had always thought that it had just been another way for them to torment her, since they knew how much she detested that doll, but could Mary-Ellen really eat? Jillian had never seen her heart-shaped lips move, but, even if Mary-Ellen did sneak a taste, did that mean she had a stomach? Could Slappy eat too, even though his insides were hollow?

She turned to him, holding up the box. "You want some?"

He turned his head and crinkled his nose. "Be still my beating taste buds."

"Have it your way," she returned with a scornful sniff. Why was she even bothering to be nice to him?

She leaned back against the counter, deliberately focusing on her cereal. She supposed she ought to carry him to the table, but she was not ready to pick him up again just yet. In any case, he did not seem ready to pull whatever plan he had up his sleeve, so there was no real need to move him.

Jillian stirred the cereal, sending the now soggy flakes spinning, and glanced at the kitchen clock. Mom was right. She actually had time to relax a little before she had to grab her bike for school - and she was actually going to put that time to good use. Meanwhile, one question - well, one in particular - still bothered her.

"Hey, Slappy?" she asked slowly.

"Yes, doll?"

"How did Mary-Ellen come to life?"

He had not told her much the night before, just that he found it incriminating that the bulk of her problems had begun after a specific doll had arrived. Apparently, he had encountered this sort of thing in the past and could spot the signs. "I don't believe in coincidences, kid," he had declared - but had infuriatingly refused to answer any more of her questions, sweetly insisting she get some sleep.

Now, he gave a disinterested shrug. "It depends on who made her," he drawled, "and what type of magic they used. Some dolls need a rarely used word to be woken up. Others need a full moon in autumn with the stars aligned precisely. I once knew a Jack-in-the-box who came to life if anyone whistled 'Pop Goes the Weasle' and went to sleep when they sang 'Auld Lang Syne'." He shook his head. "Guy could never attend a New Year's Eve party."

She leaned on her arm, mulling that over. She had never believed in magic, but, then, she had never believed in talking dolls - at least, not since she was three. If what he was saying were true, that could mean just about anything could be alive, and one would never know it. Some toys might even be trapped in slumber while others just sat in their corners, watching their owners. She shivered. "What about you?"

"What _about_ me?" he asked sweetly.

She met his round eyes. "You never told me how you woke up in my bedroom."

He laid a hand over his heart - well, no, not a heart: just his chest. "Oh, Jillian, don't you know?" He tapped his jacket, and that was when she saw he was pointing to the pocket where she had found the aging piece of paper. " _Karru marri odonna loma molonu karrano_ ," he said, his hoarse voice pronouncing each word with its proper accent.

She tried to suppress the icy feeling that shot through her. "What does that mean?"

His painted smile widened. "Do you really want to know?"

"Not that much," she said quickly, causing him to giggle. She gave him a sweeping glance again. "It sounds pretty rough that you can't be awake all the time. Why did your creator make you need the card in the first place?"

His raspy voice grew harsher: "Magic demands a price."

She wanted to ask him what he meant, but a shadow had crossed his face, turning his round eyes cold. She went back to her cereal. "So, why didn't the girls tell me about Mary-Ellen?" she asked softly. "They had a talking doll for months, but they couldn't let me in on the secret?"

He gave her a condescending look. "Probably because Mary-Ellen told them not to, dum-dum. Why?" he demanded. "You're not going to tell them about me, are you?"

She shook her head. "It's just… things changed after she got here." Her teeth gritted. "Sometimes, they'll outright ignore me and just talk to Mary-Ellen, even when something important is happening. It's like they think she's their long-lost triplet, and I'm not even in the family anymore."

Slappy shrugged. "Maybe they don't care about you that much."

"Maybe not," she agreed bitterly, sending the crispy-thin flakes swirling in a violent vortex. "They sneaked into my room to give me a haircut while I was sleeping. I didn't believe them when they said it was Mary-Ellen's idea, but I'm not really that surprised that the ugly thing is out to get me."

"She's just jealous," he snorted. "With a mug like hers, she probably turns green over Dracula's good looks."

Despite her glum mood, a snicker erupted - the first time he had actually made her laugh. "You're really not so bad, are you?" she joked - well, half-joked.

A grin appeared on his carved face. "Oh, I'm _devilishly_ bad," he returned, eyes glittering, "but sometimes I like to help cute girls on the weekends."

Jillian averted her gaze - and it was then that the pounding of little feet exploded from the floor above them.

Slappy latched onto her arm. "Okay, Jillian, this has to look convincing," he hissed. "Put your hand in my back, and sit at the table. When the time's right, point me at them."

Jillian felt the color drain from her face. "No way," she breathed, taking a step back. Carrying him around was bad enough, but putting her hand into his hollow body? That was just sick.

His eyes flashed dangerously as he yanked her closer. "Don't chicken out on me now!"

The noise was growing louder. She steeled herself and slipped her bruised fingers through the hole in his back. She felt him shudder. She made a fist - careful not to touch any of his interior surfaces - scooped him up, and carried both him and her breakfast to the kitchen table. She took a deep breath and held it, trying to make herself look calm even though she felt close to puking all over the kitchen floor.

"Hey, Jillian?" he suddenly whispered as the footsteps of the two six-year-olds began to clop down the stairs.

She slowly exhaled. "Yeah?"

"If _you_ got all the looks in the family, which one of _them_ got the brains?" he snickered into her shoulder.

She shot him a dirty look. "Shut up." How was it that, even when he gave out compliments, he could still manage to insult her?

* * *

The twins exploded into the room. People described them as miniature versions of Jillian to the point that Dad joked that he and Mom had started a collection. They were both the tallest girls in their class, just like Jillian, and had the same round green eyes and straight black hair, though Katie always wore hers in a ponytail, and Amanda allowed hers to hang around her shoulders. They were talking loudly together about how they would transport the entire amount of their extensive beanbag-doll collection to school for Show-and-Tell, but the two suddenly stopped in their tracks when they caught sight of Slappy.

"What's he doing down here?" Katie demanded. She was the twin with the squeaky voice.

"Nunya," Jillian returned and forced herself to shovel in a spoonful of cereal - a little awkward since her dominant hand was inside of the dummy.

"But you don't like Slappy," Amanda insisted.

"What are you talking about? We're best friends," she replied briskly and gave him a light pat on the head. "See? I can pretend my toys are alive too."

The girls moved closer until they were standing over the dummy. "You said you never wanted to be a dumb ventriloquist," Amanda reminded her. "You just want to be a stupid clown."

"Well, Harrison thinks it's a good idea," Jillian said. It was partly true anyway. The twins exchanged a glance, their little faces cast in shadows, but Jillian found herself smirking. _You guys can't scare me by trying to make me think he's alive anymore_. _I_ _KNOW_ _he's alive, and he's on_ _MY_ _side_. "Maybe you guys and Mary-Ellen would like to watch the routine we're working on," she could not resist gloating.

Katie glowered. "Mary-Ellen's still in the closet," she said hotly.

 _Serves her right_ , she thought. From what Slappy had told her, she would not be surprised if that horrid doll had helped them grab Petey.

"Mary-Ellen's not happy with you," Amanda said seriously. "She doesn't like that you have Slappy while she's stuck in the closet."

"She says you're gonna be sorry," Katie chorused.

Her hold on Slappy tightened without her meaning to. "I don't care what Mary-Ellen thinks," she sniffed. "Now, eat your breakfast - or Slappy's gonna get you!" She shoved Slappy forward, aiming his mouth at Amanda. The wooden jaws widened and then...

The dummy did nothing.

 _Huh?_

Katie made a face. "We're not afraid of Slappy. He can't do anything to us."

"Mary-Ellen would turn him into sawdust if he tried anything," Amanda added.

"Well, eat your breakfast anyway," Jillian retorted and turned Slappy to face her. His wooden countenance remained frozen in a crooked grin. _What's the deal?_ she mouthed, glaring.

For a long moment, his face was still - and then his eyes slowly began to close until he gave her a half-lidded look. In a flash he was normal again, but the message was clear. _Make it count, kid._

The twins poured themselves two bowls of cereal and brought their breakfast over to the table. Amanda sat on Jillian's left, and Katie sat beside her.

"He's pretty ugly," Katie said, sneering around Amanda at the dummy's busted-up face. "Like your lizard."

"This from the kid who digs for worms in the backyard," Jillian muttered. Katie was the more outgoing of the twins; a tomboy through and through, she liked to pick up worms when she found them and used them to chase Amanda and the girls at school, pretending she wanted to put them in their hair.

"Worms are cool," Katie replied, sticking out her tongue. "Lizards are gross."

"Worms and lizards are both gross," Amanda shuddered. "I wish we could get a cat."

"Mom says no more pets until Petey's gone," Katie reminded her, slapping her cereal impatiently with her spoon, causing milk to splatter.

Jillian spun around in her seat, feeling her insides boil. "Is _that_ why you guys tried to hurt him yesterday?" she demanded. How could they sink that low?

Both of them glared. "We didn't do it!"

"We never touched your lizard - or that ugly dummy!"

She felt the puppet tremble, and she looked down to see Slappy's eyes flash.

"Let's talk about something else," Jillian heard her own voice say quickly as she turned him away. "How's your beanbag-doll collection coming? Do you guys have enough in your piggy banks to buy a new one?"

The two angry faces melted away into indifference. "Mary-Ellen says we have too many," Katie said with a shrug.

"So?" Jillian countered.

However, the two girls did not reply, scooping bites of cereal and smacking their lips obnoxiously. Jillian looked away in disgust. Even when the doll was not around, they still ignored her. Jillian returned to her own breakfast, but just as she put a spoonful in her mouth, she felt the dummy shake again, and she looked down. His red smile was frozen in place, but his eyebrows had arched down, narrowing his cold eyes and setting them ablaze. His jaw twitched. He looked like a tea kettle about to explode. She suddenly had the urge to yank her hand out and heave him across the room.

"Mary-Ellen thinks Slappy should stay in our room," Katie suddenly said, cutting into her thoughts.

Jillian swallowed a lump of cereal without chewing. "No way!" she choked, pounding her chest.

"Mary-Ellen likes Slappy," Amanda insisted, "and she says you're too ugly to play with him."

 _"Likes" Slappy?_ "Slappy told Mary-Ellen she needed a flea collar," she said with a firm shake of her head. "Who's the ugly one?"

"You are!" they cried and broke into wicked giggles.

Jillian glowered. As much as she hated the idea of sharing a room with the creepy thing on her lap, she was not about to leave him to contend with Mary-Ellen either. "He belongs to Harrison, and Harrison is my friend, so he's staying with me."

"But you _hate_ Slappy," Amanda returned.

Jillian cringed. "No, I don't. He's grown on me," she said. "I… like him. Honest." She pat his arm awkwardly. "Best buddies, him and me. Yep."

"If you like him so much, why don't you marry him?" Katie teased.

Jillian felt her stomach drop. "Shut up," she retorted, doing her best not to look down.

Amanda suddenly squealed. "Your face is red!" she gasped.

"Shut _up_ , you little twerp," she glowered.

The girls burst into giggles. Her fists trembled, causing the little body on her lap to shake, and she felt Slappy's head roll to the side. Her eyes shot down before she could stop herself, and she met his glittering blue gaze. He seemed to be laughing at her right along with the twins.

It was too much. "Knock it off!" she growled and jumped to her feet, turning over her chair as she swung the dummy up, aiming him right at the two.

Slappy's jaw stretched wide. A gurgling sounded in his belly - no, wait, her hand was still inside him! - and in seconds it grew and grew, louder and louder, like water boiling in a kettle until it was a full roar. The twins stared in shock, their little faces frozen, and for a brief moment Jillian had the sudden urge to pull Slappy back - and then, suddenly, something green shot out of his mouth, right onto Amanda.

* * *

"A walking, talking dummy who is the world's best prankster, and the best you could come up with was _FROGS_?" Jillian demanded, turning Slappy in her arms to face her as soon as her bedroom door slammed shut.

"Hey, a lot worse could have come out my mouth, sweetheart," he sniffed. "I just decided not to leave you with the clean-up job since you've been so nice today. I told you you'd get lucky."

Jillian glowered at him. "Where did you even get that thing?" she challenged. **_When_** did he even get that thing?

"Had it in my throat," he snickered. "Really, Jillian, is _that_ what it takes to stump you? What happens when someone dangles keys in front of your face?"

She set him down on his feet, a little rougher than she intended. "I could have done frogs," she snapped.

"So, why didn't you?" he retorted, straightening his frayed jacket. "Look, if you had the brains for this, kid, those brats wouldn't be pushing you around all the time, and _**I**_ wouldn't have little reptiles shoved into me in my sleep."

Jillian plopped down on the bed. "I didn't think you'd get me in trouble!" she cried.

"Well, then you should have been more specific!" he shot back, throwing up his hands. "If you went with your _brilliant_ idea of tying their shoelaces together, don't you think your mother would have found out about _that_ too?"

Jillian grimaced. He had a point, but she was not ready to admit it. In any case Mom had been livid. "I know you're upset about Petey," she had scolded her after she had managed to calm Amanda down, "but putting a wild animal inside Slappy is just as bad, Jillian Louise Zinman!"

On top of all that, the twins would be allowed to get Mary-Ellen back when they got home from school.

Jillian exhaled through her teeth. "You know, if _they_ had thrown a frog at _me_ , and I started screaming my head off, Mom would have just told me I was overreacting."

"Grown-ups always favor little kids," he shrugged, hefting his skinny body onto the bed beside her. "Lucky for you, I'm not a grown-up."

She shook her head. "You could've warned me though."

"And spoil the game?" he cried, laying his hands over his chest with mock outrage. "I had to know you were committed to this, darlin'. You should be proud of yourself. Petey definitely would be." He folded his arms with a smug smirk. "Jillian, can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me you didn't have even a little bit of fun?"

Jillian hesitated. Tossing frogs was about as clever as Katie tossing worms, and it did not really feel nasty enough. It certainly did not come anywhere close to avenging Petey. She felt as if she was in the same position yesterday afternoon, pacing her room for the perfect revenge but coming up dry.

...But Amanda _did_ hate anything slimy. And even though Jillian had gotten in trouble, it was still the first successful prank she had managed to pull in a long while. Then an image flashed in her mind - a picture of Amanda, little green eyes wide as saucers, her mouth hanging wide like a cartoon character - and a giggle burst from her.

She covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking. "Di-Did you see the way sh-she screamed?" she gasped.

His ugly grin widened. "Thought so."

Her entire body rocked until she collapsed on her side. Slappy chortled with her, and for once she did not mind the sound of his shrill laughter. "What's next, partner?" she asked when she managed to calm herself enough.

He grinned. "Oh, I got a few ideas," he said, leaning back against her pillow and flipping open a book. "You'll see how much fun we can have when you get home."

Oh, yeah. School. She got to her feet, but then she stopped. "Where did you get the frog anyway?"

He grinned. "Can you keep a secret?"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, don't tell me," she exhaled. She then had an image of him wandering through her house at night. While she slept.

She turned to the glass tank and scooped the docile reptile into her arms. "Be a good boy, Petey. No wild parties," she warned the lizard, shaking a stern finger at his content face before she planted a kiss on his scaly forehead.

She was about to put him back in when she felt eyes on her, and she turned her head to see Slappy staring at her, his crooked grin wide. She held the lizard a little closer. "What?"

"Don't I get one?" he teased.

Her stomach promptly churned. "No way, your face is broken," she said dismissively.

A wooden hand came up to tap the chipped lip. "Well, you could always take me down to your dad's workshop. I could probably fix myself up in two ticks."

She really did not like where this joke seemed to be headed, so she raised Petey higher on her shoulder, making him nod his head like a puppet. "Jillian doesn't want to kiss you, Slappy," she had the lizard say in a high-pitched voice. "She doesn't like termites. But I do! Yum, yum, yum!"

The dummy glowered and turned away, flipping the pages of the book with his thumb. "I saw your lips move," he sniffed.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Advice is appreciated. :)


	3. Chapter 3

"But I wrote it the right way!" Katie protested. Her squeaky voice was higher than normal.

"We did our homework together," Amanda insisted, coming to her defense. "She had the same answers as me last night!"

Dad looked stern. "Every single answer on your math homework was wrong, Katie," he said slowly. "Your teacher was very disappointed."

"I _know_ that you can do sums," Mom put in, folding her arms. "I know you know that three plus four is _not_ thirty-four. I don't know why you thought it was a good idea to play a joke with your homework, but it's not funny, Katrina Rose Zinman."

"But I didn't change it!" she cried.

Jillian watched the scene through the open window. She had to admit it: this _was_ nastier than frogs. "When did you ever find time to do _that_?" she whispered to the dummy in the patio chair beside her.

"A prank-matician never reveals his secrets," he said smoothly. He sat naturally low enough in the chair that someone passing by on the sidewalk would not be able to see him over the porch railing. He obviously felt comfortable enough to grab a piece of a Club cracker from the plate in front of him and to give it an easy toss, catching it in his mouth. Jillian had already decided not to ask where it went. Slappy then snickered. "We keep this up, we could have them both repeat first grade!"

She winced. "That's a _little_ excessive, don't you think?"

Slappy gave her a look. "I could have woken up with lizards guts in my mouth. Trust me. They'd be getting off easy."

 _Well, when you put it THAT way…_

Jillian sat back in her chair, gazing at the autumn surroundings. She had come home to Slappy complaining about being stuck indoors for seven hours, so to shut him up she had brought him out onto the front stoop so that he could experience one of the last warm fall afternoons before the frost came. Then they had overheard Mom forbidding Katie from watching T.V. until Dad got home, and then Slappy had suggested they get snacks for the show. Jillian shook her head. It was strange how fast she was getting accustomed to having a talking dummy in less than twenty-four hours.

"You had that trick set up the whole time," she said slowly. "You didn't even need to use the frog." She once again had an image of Slappy stalking around the house at night, moving woodenly through the halls with his slow, scarecrow-like gait, silently entering the twins' bedroom - and she quickly pushed it aside.

"The frog was for _your_ benefit, sweetheart," he winked. "I couldn't have all the fun. Now, fill 'er up," he ordered, tapping the glass in front of him.

Jillian poured the peach tea - he had barely complained about its taste, which she considered a triumph - and replenished her own glass as well. "What else have you done?"

He tittered. "How much do you want to know?"

 _Sure, THAT sounds reassuring_ , the nagging voice in her head said flatly, but she tried to ignore it. "Nothing dangerous, right?"

"I told you, not unless you ask me to, Jillian."

She frowned. "Try not to sound so disappointed."

He sniffed. "I'm an artist, kid; I don't like to limit my options, but I can adapt." He steepled his stiff fingers, glancing at her thoughtfully. "We definitely need to get you in on some of these tricks. I can only do so much on my own with Mary-Ellen in the house."

That sounded promising. She leaned forward. "What can I do?"

His blue eyes gleamed with wicked excitement. "You could offer to take the girls to the library. Let them pick out whatever book they want. Make a fun day out of it. Take them out for ice cream afterwards. Go to the park. Then, when they're not looking, I could write one girl's name in the other's book in big red letters. Your parents will flip!" he snickered into his wooden hands.

She frowned. "Those books belong to the library though."

He rolled his eyes. "So, they'll use their little piggy banks to pay for the damages," he drawled. "The library won't be hurt. Think of it this way: would you rather have them pay for a new book - _or_ for a new lizard?"

Jillian sighed. He was right. Again. "Maybe we could try that this weekend, after the birthday party. I don't think my folks will let us do it today," she said, nodding to the window.

Katie's little face was turning red. Amanda was sobbing uncontrollably, as if she were the one in trouble, but Katie did not even sniffle. She never cried; she only got angry. Still, even as she loudly continued to protest her innocence to her frowning parents, her narrowed green eyes looked hurt - no, no, Jillian told herself, taking that thought and chucking it away. Katie was getting what she deserved. She had almost killed her lizard. Jillian was not going to allow herself to feel sympathy for the culprit. "What else can we do?" she forced herself to ask, tearing her eyes away from the scene.

"Today, or in general?" the puppet rasped around a mouthful of crackers.

"Either or."

He leaned back, rubbing his cracked chin. "Well," he said slowly after taking a moment to swallow, "the brats are probably still gonna get their rag doll back, even with that homework trick. If not today, eventually. It's occurred to me that you're gonna have to invite that hunk of junk along more often."

She jerked. "What? Why?" she demanded.

He gave her a look as if she had dribbled on herself. "Because all she needs is love, luck, and lollipops," he cracked. "To get her out of their room, of course! What do you think?" He bounced a fist off his own head. "Plus, it would be good if we could work out a few alibis. Let her see me in a room, not doing anything, when the twins discover a few surprises. It'd be all the better if we can make her think _you're_ the mastermind - tough as that may be," he smirked.

Jillian shook her head. "She was creepy even before I knew she was alive," she protested. "I don't want to _hang out_ with her."

"A necessary evil, my friend," he returned. "We have to stay two steps ahead in this sorta game. We'd be stupid to think Mary-Ellen won't catch on eventually." He paused. "Well, _I'd_ be stupid. You'd be about the same."

Jillian decided it would be more prudent _not_ to flick a cracker at his head. For now.

He seemed to sense her continued reluctance and went on, "Look, doll, the best way to get someone to believe any lie is to mix in a dash of truth." His raspy voice changed to sound like an exaggerated idiot. "'Du-u-ur, look! The dummy didn't move during a prank, so he didn't do anything. Dur, hur, hur!' And it's true that the dummy didn't move when the sap fell for a trick - because the dummy moved three hours before to set up the joke in the first place!" He giggled.

That actually sounded kinda brilliant. Jillian gave a sigh. "Okay, I guess, but she comes along only when it's necessary, right?"

"But of course," he purred.

"What else can we do today?"

"Your sisters like Oreos?" he asked without missing a beat.

"Yeah, but I don't think we have any, and I don't have a lotta money on me to buy more."

He shrugged, unfazed. "We'll just put that on our to-do list then," he replied with a dismissive wave. "Along with getting white toothpaste - or, better yet, Wite-Out," he added. At her dirty look, he began to titter. "Kidding! You take things too seriously, kid. Now, can you get your hands on a shovel? Or a spade or anything like that?"

"I might be able to get one from the neighbors," Jillian replied. "Why? Are we gonna dump dirt on the girls?"

"Oh, something a lot more brilliant, I promise you," he snickered, rubbing his hands gleefully. He looked like a kid in a candy store - if he were about to rob said candy store at gunpoint. "C'mon, let's get going," he said, gesturing for her to pick him up. "The show in there is wrapping up anyway," he added with a nod to the window.

She nodded as well, feeling a smile forming. This was going to be good. "'Kay, let's do this," she said, grabbing the pitcher to carry it inside first - but then she stopped, giving him another look. "But, seriously, are there any other tricks I should know about? I don't want to trigger a booby-trap or something."

He chuckled as he fingered his glass. "Remember when I told you I _didn't_ want orange juice?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What did you do?"

He opened his mouth to reply - and suddenly stopped short, his eyes bulging. His head rolled to the side, staring off into the distance.

Jillian spun and saw Harrison rolling to a stop on the sidewalk. The dark-haired boy gave a wave with his thick arm as he guided his bike up the front walk. He was huge for a twelve-year-old, tall and muscular. A lot of people mistook him for a ninth grader at first glance.

"Oh, boy," she murmured. She had forgotten he was coming over to rehearse.

"What's the deal with King Kong?" she heard the dummy mutter out of the side of his mouth.

"That's Harrison," she explained softly. "He's the one who owns - uh, who found you."

* * *

Harrison scaled the front steps two at a time. "You got snacks? I'm starving." Suddenly, his serious dark eyes lit up. "Hey, did your dad fix him?" he asked excitedly, pointing to the dummy.

"Not yet," she admitted. "I… thought I'd bring him out here to enjoy the outdoors." It was the truth, but she could not say it without wincing. She knew Slappy did not want anyone knowing about him, but eventually Harrison was going to want his dummy back. If Slappy decided he did not want to go with him, what was she going to do then?

"Cool," the taller boy said, grabbing Slappy's glass of tea and taking a long sip. Harrison thought everything was cool and did not question much. "So, did you change your mind about the ventriloquism act?"

She hesitated. "I… don't think Slappy is up to it."

"I think we could make it work," he replied. "My grandma could probably fix his jacket or maybe even sew him some new clothes. Then maybe we could make up a story that his head got cracked because he slapped the wrong person - or what was that thing you told your cousin when he said Amanda was ugly?"

"'You can't even look into a mirror without breaking it'?" she replied flatly.

"Yeah, that's the one," he nodded. "Maybe one of us could ask him what happened to his face, and he'd say, 'I got a look at yours!'" Harrison gave a friendly laugh, his serious eyes now twinkling. "I really like how Jimmy O'James made him so rude."

"Yeah, where ever could he have gotten the idea for it?" Jillian murmured, glancing at the dummy - and stopped. Slappy's face was frozen, but Jillian could not help but notice that his eyebrows were lower than they had been a moment before, giving his features a stare that made his painted smile unsettling. Jillian leaned away without meaning to. "I don't think we should be messing around with him until Dad fixes him," she said quickly.

"Well, maybe he's better than we think he is," Harrison persisted. "Let's have a look." Before she could stop him, he was leaning his thick framed over her and grabbing the puppet by his skinny torso. "Hey, buddy!" he greeted and started to lift the dummy toward him, and in a blink, the skinny, wooden arm shot out -

\- and latched onto Jillian's wrist.

"Hey!" she cried.

"Whoa, that's weird!" Harrison whistled and gave a gentle tug. "He must have come at you at a weird angle." He tugged again.

The wooden fingers remained stiff.

Jillian grabbed Slappy's wrist and tried to twist him off. "Let go," she ordered, but the hand would not budge. "Knock it off! This is _not_ funny, man!"

"I'm not doing it, I swear!" Harrison protested, easing up on the pull and turning her arm over to examine Slappy's grip. He tried to pry the thumb loose, but even his muscular hands were no match for the dummy's unnatural strength. He grimaced. "It looks stuck. Weird. You can't even _see_ the finger joints."

"I'm sure we could get Dad's hacksaw if we need to," Jillian said through her teeth.

"Maybe there's a control we missed or something," Harrison suggested, reaching into Slappy's back.

Jillian glared at the puppet, and as Harrison's thick fingers began to rummage the dummy's insides, Slappy's gaze shot toward her. A shadow crossed his wooden face, and she could see the suppressed rage burning in his painted eyes. His hard fingers began to dig into her skin.

Then she understood. "Harrison, let go of him!" she ordered. "Give him to me."

Harrison immediately obeyed. "Doesn't want to leave you, does he?" he joked with an uneasy laugh as he handed the tiny dummy back to her. "I guess he really is too busted to use."

"He's busted alright - aren't ya, buster?" she muttered as she tucked Slappy's slender frame under her arm and focused her attention on her wrist. She jiggled his hand again - one, two, three... - and the ligneous grip finally loosened. _Behave!_ she mouthed as she stuffed the dummy back into his chair. She made a show of rubbing her now tender wrist, glowering at him, but Slappy stared back, stone faced.

"We'll get him fixed someday," Harrison sighed, giving the dummy's brown head an affectionate rap. Jillian saw the little blue eyes narrow - but in a blink he was normal again. Luckily, Harrison did not seem to notice. He flopped down in an available chair and slid Slappy's plate closer to him.

 _Oh, boy_. "Hey, let's go to my room to practice," she suggested.

Harrison winced. "Can't I eat something first?" he complained.

"Bring it on the way," she ordered, getting to her feet and collecting the dummy, situating him on her hip like a toddler. Maybe she could speed through the rehearsal and send Harrison home in time for Slappy to set up their prank. "We only got four days left, and we gotta be funny, or Mrs. Henly might ask for her money back."

"Okay," Harrison sighed, shoveling crackers into his huge mouth. She felt Slappy tremble.

She led the way into the house and up the stairs to her room, careful not to let her parents catch her sneaking a peek at their confrontation as she passed the living room. Mom had had to escort Amanda out into the kitchen to calm her down. Katie was still with Dad, her little arms folded and her face scrunched up. She, of course, did not cry.

But she looked pretty close to it.

* * *

Jillian propped Slappy carefully on the desk, angling him so that he could look out the window if he chose, and pulled out the notebook with her script. She took a deep breath. _Double time, Jillian._

She turned and felt a flash of annoyance when she saw that Harrison was busy saying hello to Petey. She snapped her fingers to get his attention. "Anyway, I thought we could go through some knock-knock jokes, use the squirting cards and the other tricks we got, and then save the pie for our big finish."

"Okay," Harrison replied, and Jillian tried to keep the impatience from her face as he gave Petey one last pat before he slo-o-owly removed his hand from the tank and replaced the lid.

She flipped open to the first page of her script. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls," she announced like a circus ringmaster, "please welcome the masters of comedy, Zippy and Zappy!" She gave a soft cheer.

Harrison just winced. "Do I really have to be called 'Zappy'?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and gave his arm a light slap. "C'mon! It's cute."

"You're only saying that 'cause it was your idea," he grumbled. Suddenly, a smile formed on his serious face. "He-e-e-ey, _Zappy_ and _Slappy_. Maybe we could - "

"No," she said firmly. "This is strictly a clown act, Harrison."

"But Jimmy O'James was hilarious," he persisted. "Remember that part when Slappy asked your sisters which one of them was using the brain today?"

"Yes, I remember," she said, "but I already have an idea of how I want the act to go, Harrison. …No offense," she added, turning to the dummy - and stopped.

Slappy's head was still against the window frame, but he was watching them, eyes askance, smile cold.

"Hey, let's try out the squirting cards," Harrison said eagerly, cutting into her thoughts. "I've been wanting to see 'em in action."

They were clunkier than normal playing cards, thick enough for a small water tube to fit inside. The kit came with two long cords with pumps that could be hidden in a costume. It would be tricky to connect the cards to the cords quick enough for the gag to work, but it was just the sort of silly thing a clown act would use. They filled the pumps with water from the bathroom and brought them back to the bedroom. Jillian tried not to look at the dummy as she came in, maneuvering herself to the part of the room outside his line of vision.

She checked her room clock, fidgeting with her cards. If they finished before dinner, she could still go next door and get a shovel for Slappy's prank. Maybe once Harrison was gone, the dummy would ditch his bad mood.

Meanwhile, Harrison grabbed his half of the deck and connected his tube to the first card. "So, are we gonna try to make it look we're doing an actual game for the act?" he asked as he examined the silly cartoon drawing of the Queen of Hearts. "Because there's only sixteen cards here to work with. We won't be playing with a full deck."

"Hasn't stopped you before," she replied, fiddling to hook the Jack of Diamonds to the cord. _Hurry up..._

"Ha-ha," he said dryly. "So, we just squirt each other?"

"Well, we have to make it funny," she explained. "Make a few jokes while we do it."

His dark eyes narrowed in thought. "Makes sense, but how can we make water funny?"

Despite the urgency, Jillian felt a smile form. "Like this," she said and promptly squeezed the pump, dousing his big face. Too easy.

He sputtered, wiping his eyes, and frowned. "Walked right into that one, didn't I?"

" _WATER_ you talkin' about, Zappy?" she said sweetly and squeezed again.

"Watch it!" he cried, managing to block in time, but she saw a smile break out on his face. "Hey, Zippy! I got the _perfect_ card for you!" he said and spritzed her.

"You're a very bad card player, Zappy. When it comes to Go-Fish, you're all wet!" Another squirt.

Harrison laughed. "You should write that one down."

She flipped open her notebook and scribbled it along the margin, but she had to hold it away from her to keep water from dripping on the pages.

"Hey, you wanna try that joke on your sisters?" Harrison suddenly asked.

"Why?" she replied flatly, looking up. "They'll say it's stupid."

"No, I mean, the cards," he returned, raising the one in his thick hand. "Surprise them the way you surprised me."

Jillian grimaced. "Maybe, but it's not really a good revenge."

"Well, it's a start."

Jillian shook her head. "Then they'd go screaming to Mom about it, and she'd be mad - especially after this morning."

"What happened?"

She started to glance at the puppet but stopped herself. "I, uh, kinda threw a frog at Amanda."

Harrison began to laugh. "That's pretty good!"

"Except for the part where Mom yelled at me."

His thick hand gave a dismissive wave. "Just about anything you'd do would get you in trouble, even the nicer pranks."

"So, I've been told," she murmured. "Did I tell you I got sent to my room when I shoved Mary-Ellen's face into a plate of macaroni?"

"She had it coming," he quipped - and then suddenly snapped his fingers. "Oh, yeah, that reminds me. You know my cousin who's in college? This morning he stopped by, and he told me a few pranks his fraternity is going to play this Halloween."

She resisted again the impulse to look at the dummy. Even if she had plans with Slappy, Harrison might have an idea worth using. She forced herself to nod. "Yeah?"

"A lot of them need twenty-something people to do, but he told me a few that you and I can do around the house."

She tossed the notebook on the bed. "I'm all ears."

"I thought you were all legs," he laughed. That was a joke her dad often told. With three unusually tall daughters who were still shorter than him, Dad knew just about every height joke in the universe.

Jillian exhaled. "Con-tin-ue."

"Well, he said that he and his roommate were gonna rig some of the campus toilets with air horns, so that when someone sits down..." he trailed off, making a horn sound.

She snorted into her hands. "Oh, no..."

"Your dad still has that air horn, right?" Harrison asked, his dark eyes flashing eagerly.

Jillian started to nod but then grimaced. "Yeah, it'd be funny, unless my parents use the bathroom before the twins do."

"Just wait until you're babysitting and make sure they drink a lot of juice," he replied. "Or maybe we could get some gross stuff, like dead bugs or dead worms, put them in ice trays and freeze them. Maybe hide them in the back so your parents don't see them. Then, when they're not around, you can make the girls some drinks."

Jillian felt herself grin. "Hey, I have to watch the girls next Monday!" Talk about good timing - but then her face fell. "Katie wouldn't care if we used worms. She'd probably chase Amanda around with it. Then Amanda will start crying and tell Mom when she gets home."

"We could always go back to doing something to their doll," he replied, tapping his chin. "I still think taking her head off and filling it with stuff would work. Even Katie wouldn't be happy about worms being inside the doll."

Jillian felt a shiver pass through her. She hated that doll with a passion and could cheerfully keep her in a closet for the rest of forever, but the idea of removing her head now made her sick to her stomach. Would something like that actually kill her? "I don't think so," she said quickly. "Think meaner, Harrison."

"Meaner than bugs in ice cubes?"

"Mean enough to make them suffer, but not enough that I get grounded for life - and not involving stuffing Mary-Ellen with weird junk," she added.

Harrison shook his head. "You know what your problem is?" he said. "I think you're just being too nice to your sisters."

Jillian frowned, planting her hands on her hips. "I am _not_."

He gave her a kind smile. "Jillian, you hate their doll, but you told me you bought her an ice-cream cone at Dairy Queen. Trust me, you're nice."

"Except to you," she drawled.

"Except to me," he quipped back. "Maybe you're too much of a big sister to hurt them, so that's why you never like any of your revenge ideas."

"Oh, yeah right!" she rolled her eyes. "They almost killed my lizard. Believe me, the _last_ thing I want is to be kind."

Harrison opened his mouth to reply, but he suddenly stopped, his gaze shifting to the side. "Hey, wasn't Slappy facing the other way?"

"What!" she cried, spinning around.

Slappy had turned his head, and he was staring right at her, teeth now bare in a leering grin. His hard eyes flashed, sharp as daggers, and Jillian found herself taking a step back.

If looks could kill...

Harrison shook his head. "Looks like your dad will have to fix his face controls too - hey, what's wrong?" he asked as he suddenly glanced at her.

"Nothing!" she said quickly and flipped through her script, turning her back to the dummy. "Let's move onto the knock-knock jokes."

Maybe Harrison did not have to leave just yet...

* * *

Around six o'clock, Mom called her down to help make dinner, and Harrison went home. Even though Katie was in trouble, Amanda was allowed to get Mary-Ellen back since Mom had given her word. "What are we going to do with these girls?" Jillian heard her mother mutter to Dad as she laid out the silverware.

"Could be worse," Dad joked. "We could've had them three years apart instead of six years apart."

As such, after dinner, Jillian thought it would be prudent to help her mother with the dishes.

As she stacked the plates in the drain rack, she found herself glancing at the clock. It was probably too late to do Slappy's prank - whatever it was - so it would have to wait until tomorrow. She sighed. In the whirlwind of discovering a living dummy and then planning plots, it was no wonder that she had forgotten Harrison was coming over, but she wished she could have handled it better. She could not tell Harrison about Slappy, but she could not have just sent him away, not when they only had four days to plan for the birthday party. That was still important. Maybe Slappy would not mind postponing their pranks until after both parties were over.

Then an image flashed in her mind: Slappy's eyes cold, yet seething, bearing into her during the rehearsal, as if he wanted nothing more than to spring to life and strangle both her and Harrison right then and there. Then once again she saw a picture of Jimmy O'James' scared face, begging her, pleading with her to get rid of the dummy. She shivered. _What have you gotten yourself into, Jillian?_

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Mom asked, drawing her out of her thoughts.

"I'm fine. Just concentrating," she lied and went back to drying.

Yet even as her stomach knotted, a small part of her tried to guess what could have made Slappy so angry. She did not think she had said anything particularly offensive in front of him, and, after all, she _had_ rescued him from Harrison poking around his back like a surgeon when the dummy was unable to defend himself - and then an idea struck her. He had said earlier, in no uncertain terms (or shortage of words), that he had not been a fan staying in her room for seven hours with only children's sci-fi books for entertainment and no copy of the yellow pages. She could only imagine how it must have felt for him to be then forced to play dead while Harrison was in the room. As scary as he was, he probably had feelings too.

She waited until her mother headed into the den before she stashed a hunk of chicken from the refrigerator into a small Tupperware bin. A nice dinner might make a good peace offering. She tucked the bin under her arm and took the other door, heading through the dining room to get to the stairs. No need to explain to Mom why she was bringing food into her room. She tiptoed through the living room and around the corner, carefully to avoid the squeaky patch - and then stopped.

The twins were standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching her. Amanda held Mary-Ellen in her arms.

Jillian quickly moved the chicken behind her back. "What are you two looking at?"

"Mary-Ellen's giving you one more chance," Katie said, holding up one little finger. "She says Slappy should stay in our room."

"Not happening," Jillian said through her teeth, glowering at the staring doll. She was a truly ugly thing: almost as big as the twins, with frizzy brown hair, glassy violet eyes, red cheeks, and lips drawn in the shape of a heart on her plastic face.

"Mary-Ellen likes Slappy," Amanda insisted. "She wants to play a game with him."

"What? 'Stuff the Dummy in a Wood Chipper'?" she cracked. "Actually, scratch that. Slappy would probably take one look at her and jump in himself."

Both of them glowered.

"She says you're too dirty to play with him," Katie sneered.

"You're not good enough for him," Amanda chorused.

"What does that even mean?" Jillian demanded. The girls did not reply. Disgusted, Jillian pushed her away around them. "Slappy isn't yours," she told them. "He isn't mine, but your dumb doll is not going to tell me what to do with him."

"Mary-Ellen says you'll be sorry," Amanda warned in a sing-song voice.

Jillian whirled around on the stair. The doll's violet eyes stared back at her. No emotion. No life. Yet still Jillian felt a chill creep up the back of her neck. She gritted her teeth. "Do your worst."

She turned on her heel and started up the stairs.

* * *

Jillian slammed the door shut. "I cannot _believe_ them!" she cried, crossing the room to lay the chicken bin on her bed table before she plopped onto the bed. "It's bad enough that they keep that dumb doll around, but - ugh!" She wanted to scream but settled for pounding her mattress. How could her sisters actually _like_ that hunk of junk? "Just wait until you hear what happened outside. The twins had Mary-Ellen out, and they said - " She stopped. "Uh, Slappy?"

The dummy had propped himself against the headboard, arms folded and shoulders hunched. He had not looked up as she came in, and he continued to stare at a particular blue triangle on her comforter. His mouth was shut tight, and a strange clicking sound was coming from his jaw.

"You okay?" she tried again. "You still awake?"

Silence. Except for the clicking.

After a moment she gingerly raised her hand and waved it in front of his face. "Hey, are you feeling alright - ?"

In a flash his arm shot out, and she barely pulled away in time. "I'm thinking," he growled hoarsely without looking up. "Leave me alone." It was then that she realized that the clicking sound was his wooden teeth clenching together.

She resisted the urge to shrink back and forced a disinterested frown, hoping she looked braver than she felt. "Well, I brought you dinner. It's there if you want it, Your Majesty," she sniffed and moved to her desk, pulling out her homework. Maybe she would just wait awhile to tell him about Mary-Ellen's creepy demands.

She started on her spelling assignment, which she normally breezed through, but now it was hard to focus. She kept glancing at the dummy, expecting him to be staring at her with his cold gaze, but his eyes were elsewhere - and she was not sure if that was any better. She wanted to tell him that she was sorry about not sending Harrison away sooner, but she was not sure if he would even listen to an apology. Jillian glanced at her clock. She would have to go to bed in a few hours. At least she had until then to come up with a solution - if one could even be found.

It took awhile, but at long last she pulled out her final assignment and bit back a groan. Three-digit mulitiplication. She flexed her fingers and forced herself to begin, even as she felt her mind start to numb. Three-digit multiplication must have been someone's idea of torture. It was not that she was bad at math; it was just somehow her brain would blank whenever she had to multiply any number larger than two digits. Mrs. Jones always gave out worksheets where the problems were jammed so tight together that one had to write super small just to show one's work - and everyone _had_ to show their work - and there were always so many of them. She could stare at the same problem for ten minutes without making any headway - and tonight's assignment was even double-sided.

She chewed her pencil, staring hard at the page as if that would will the correct answers into existence. Maybe if Dad was not busy, she could ask him for help, if only to keep her focused. Or maybe...

She glanced toward the bed - and promptly looked away. No. Bad idea. Bad idea. Give him time to cool down. She forced her eyes on the problem in front of her.

...But it was worth a shot, right?

She took a deep breath and turned in her seat. "Hey, Slappy, are you any good at - ?" she started to say, but the words died as soon as his head snapped toward her with a withering glare.

A chill passed through her. "...What's wrong?"

" _Must_ you bother me?" he rasped.

"I wasn't trying to be a bother," she returned truthfully, causing him to snort. "I just wanted to ask - "

"Your _existence_ bothers me," he shot back. "Just shut up and do your homework, girl."

Something flared inside her. Jillian slammed her pencil on the desk. "Ex ** _cuse_** me!" she demanded.

"Are you deaf as well as stupid?" he sneered. "I said shut up and do your homework, or do I have to dumb _that_ down for ya?"

" _Who's_ stupid?" she shot back. "Sure, your insults might make a bunch of preschoolers laugh, but that's because only a preschooler could come up with them."

He immediately sprang to his feet, jaw clicking. " _Watch what you say, little girl!_ " he bellowed. " _I have been patient with you until now, but y_ _ou do NOT want to make me angry!_ "

Jillian was up as well, fists clenched. "Say that again," she snapped. "I don't think Mary-Ellen heard you. The twins say that she would really like to play a game with you, so if that sounds like fun, go for it!"

His cold eyes became like daggers. She braced herself, expecting him at any moment to spring towards her, but even as she stared him down, her speeding mind stumbled upon a solution, and in that split second of clarity, she knew what she would do. If he moved to attack her, there would be no point trying to get her parents - they would never believe her - so she would run straight down the hall to Mary-Ellen. If that doll was alive - _please, **please** let that ugly doll actually be alive_ \- all Jillian needed to do was tell her that Slappy was awake and after her little humans and then let the enraged dummy deal with her.

"What is the matter with you?" she demanded, taking a small step toward the door. "We were having fun earlier, and now you're about to pop a blood vessel."

" _Fun_? Oh, _yessssssss_ , there was _lots_ of _fun_ today," he hissed nastily. "You and the ape had _fun_ coming up with your little revenge plots just fine without me, didn't you?"

Oh. "Is _that_ what this is all about?" she challenged. "Harrison was just trying to help. He knows what I have to put up with, thanks to those two!"

Slappy jabbed a stiff finger at her. "We had a deal, and you would rather take notes from him!"

Jillian threw up her hands. "What was I _supposed_ to say? 'Sorry, Harrison, I can't talk revenge with you because Slappy is already helping me'? _You_ were the one who didn't want me telling people about you."

"Well, you could have done _something_!" his shrill voice screamed. "You could have done a thousand different things instead of flaunting how much you _loved_ your boyfriend's ideas in front of me!"

"I wasn't flaunting anything!" Jillian snapped. "Harrison had some good ideas, but that doesn't mean I like his more than yours." Was the puppet really this self-conscious? "And he's _not_ my boyfriend!"

"Oh, so all those smiles he kept giving you were just from indigestion?" he demanded.

"Smiles - ?" Jillian shook her head. Why did she have to have this conversation with everyone, including a talking dummy? "He smiled at me because we're _friends_. He wanted to help me because we're _friends_. Is that really such a foreign concept to you?"

His little body trembled. "He flirted with you!"

Jillian stopped short, sputtering. "No, he _didn't_!" she exclaimed. "And you call _me_ stupid!" Had he lost his mind?

"'I thought you were all legs'," Slappy mimicked, making Harrison's voice sound unflattering. "You don't _say_ that to someone who's 'just a friend', doll face."

"My _father_ says that to me all the time!" she cried. "Look at me! I'm twelve years old, and I can wear most of my mom's clothes! I _am_ all legs! Harrison was just making a joke. Or is _that_ foreign to you too?"

His wooden joints were rattling now. "Oh, how would a dumb girl like you even know what a guy _really_ wants?" he seethed.

"All Harrison wants in life is food and _The Lion King_ on video," she retorted. "Not that it's any of _your_ business, but he would never like me _that_ way."

His eyes flashed. "Oh, no? I find that hard to believe."

"The guy is practically my brother," she insisted. "Besides, I will always be the girl that made him eat a whole bowl of mud."

Slappy stopped short. His baleful face immediately went blank. He blinked. "You… made him… eat mud," he repeated.

She folded her arms. "Yes, I did. Now, will you _listen_ to me?"

He blinked again. "You made him... eat mud."

"Is there an echo?" she snapped. "Now, are you done with your hissy fit? Because you're welcomed to sleep outside tonight."

He did not respond. He stared at her, wide eyed, for several moments, his wooden jaw slowly lowering. Then his shoulders started to shake.

Then he began to giggle - softly at first, but then it grew, louder and louder until he clutched his sides, staggering to keep his footing. "I _knew_ it! I _knew_ you were perfect!" he managed to rasp before he sank to his knees, doubling over.

Jillian allowed a few moments to pass, watching his strange little-boy face contort in delight, before she felt safe enough to continue. "Are you through?"

It took him awhile before he could answer, but finally his shrill laughter subsided. His blue eyes gleamed with admiration - and something else. "Oh, you wonderful girl!"

"Changed your tune pretty quick," she replied flatly.

He shook his head, still smiling. "A misunderstanding, I promise you," he said, holding his hand over his chest in oath. "I told you: we're partners. I'm gonna keep your sisters from walking all over you, and I mean it. But imagine my surprise when I thought I suddenly had to keep a few unsavory fellas from taking advantage of a nice, pretty girl - but you can take of yourself, can't you, doll face?"

Jillian sighed, rubbing her temples. "Why would your mind even **_go_** there, Slappy?"

"Call it a big-brother instinct. Or something," he dismissed. "I've taken care of plenty of little girls in the past, some even more dense than you. You should've seen me when Lindy Powell started dating." He then rubbed his wooden hands together, his eyes flashing gleefully. "So, you made that gorilla eat mud? How? Did you hold him down and force it in his mouth, or did you hide it in a chocolate pie? How old were you? C'mon, Jillian!" he cried at her silence. "Don't hold out on me! Details! Details!"

It was amazing to see the transformation. His ugly little face looked as excited as if she had told him she was taking him to the movies. Jillian took a deep breath. Might as well humor him. "It was back in the first grade, so… I just turned seven, maybe?"

He patted the mattress, motioning her to come toward him. "How did you do it?"

Jillian shrugged, but she did not move. "It was at a birthday party where we saw a magician. After the show, I told him that the magician had given me a bowl of a magic ice cream that only tasted like mud for the first few bites, but then it would start to taste like rocky road, which was his favorite ice cream - back _then_."

He tittered. "And he just _ate_ it?"

"The whole thing," she replied, and in spite of the tension inside her, she found herself chuckling. "I really had him going. You should've seen him: 'Jil-li-an, it still tastes like dirt!' 'Keep eating. You gotta _believe_ in it for the magic to work!' I only thought he'd take a few bites, but he ate the whole thing before my mom caught us." And Harrison never ratted her out though, she reflected. He had said it was his idea. The next Monday at school he had sat next to her at lunch and had told her his exciting adventure to the emergency room. They had been best friends ever since.

"You must have sounded convincing," the dummy marveled.

She smiled, polishing her fingernails in the same way he did. "People always say I'm a great actress," she said with an exaggerated sniff. "I'm pretty good at improv too. That's how I got two birthday gigs, you know."

He rubbed his chin. His blue eyes swept up and down her thin frame. "And in all these years, you never tried to use your ability on your sisters?" he said slowly.

She shrugged. "Well, I'm not going to make my little sisters eat mud," she admitted. "As much as I'd _like_ to, I know it'd be dangerous."

He shook his head. "Monkey boy was right. You _are_ too nice to them." A grin spread across his face. "Lucky for you, I can use this to our tactical advantage."

"Oh?"

He motioned for her to come closer, and this time she took three steps toward him - but still just out of reach.

"Do you think you could use your acting skills on the rag doll?" he asked. "Could you tell your sisters something and _really_ sell it?"

She hesitated. "Well, I suppose. If I had to."

"Don't worry. We can practice, sweetheart." He began to pace. "It's like I was telling you earlier. You make somebody believe a lie by mixing in some truth. Look at the story you sold monkey boy. He might not have believed you about magic mud, but he definitely believed it after he saw a magician's tricks. Since he was dumb enough to believe the magician was real, he believed your story was real too."

"He was only seven," Jillian pointed out with a frown.

"And your sisters are only six, so it makes things easier," he quipped.

She finally sat down next to him. "What did you have in mind?"

His eyes gleamed. "For this trick, I'm gonna need you, me, the doll and the twerps out of their room for about an hour, but you really have to sell that you want to bring me along without it looking like you think I'm alive. Can you do that?"

She nodded. "I think I could, but how is getting all of us out of the room going to help us trick them?"

"Misdirection, dearest." He leaned forward, bringing his wooden nose inches from hers. "Can I trust you with my prankster secrets?"

She grinned. "Of course."

He clapped his hands together. "Good! Then it's a date!" he cried and promptly cackled.

 _Note to self: ear plugs_.

* * *

"I guess it'll have to wait until tomorrow," she sighed, glancing out her darkened window. She grimaced. "Of course, I'd rather be digging around outside in the dark than do one of Mrs. Jones's assignments."

"Ignore it. It'll go away," Slappy replied simply, sitting down next to her.

She scoffed. "Easy for you to say," she said. "You don't have to go to school."

"And it's a good life," he said smugly. He suddenly gave her a sympathetic look. "Hey, cheer up, Jillian. Maybe someday you won't have to worry about school."

"Oh, no?"

A grin split his face. "Yeah, they can always kick you out!" He threw his head back and laughed.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm starting to think that you actually believe you're funny."

He stopped smiling. "I _am_ funny," he growled. "Maybe I can give you pointers on that snooze fest you call a clown routine."

"I don't think Mrs. Henly would still pay me if I got up and started insulting a bunch of four-year-olds," she replied flatly.

"Ha! Shows what you know." He folded his arms. "There's two parts to a comedy duo, the straight man and the banana man. You can tell which one's the straight man because he's usually the boring guy that reacts to all the funny stuff that the banana man does, and the banana man pulls tricks that makes the straight man look like a sap." A smirk appeared. "Sure, you both looks like saps anyway, but I'm guessing you're the banana, right, _Zippy_?"

"Ha-ha." However, she contemplated his words. She _had_ thought of playing a happy clown while Harrison would be the sad clown, so she guessed Slappy's advice was applicable. "I'm not gonna humiliate Harrison though."

"All humor is based on suffering," he sniffed. "It's not funny unless someone's insulted."

Jillian frowned. "What about knock-knock jokes?"

"Knock-knock jokes are puns, and puns insult the English language," he replied. "That's why they're so _PUN_ gent."

"Bah dum tish," Jillian cracked. "Keep that up, and you're in for a swift _PUN_ ishment."

He gave her a half-lidded look. "You're cute, but leave the one-liners to me." He shifted his position so that he was now directly facing her. "Now, take my old partner, Jimmy. It's funny when **_I_** insult him because he's the uptight nerd that says I'm a bad influence on children. He represents that goody-two-shoes teacher's pet that never gets invited to birthday parties, so it's _fun_ when I cut him down. I get to do all the mean stuff that the kids _wish_ they could do but can't without getting into trouble."

"That sounds horrible."

"That's _comedy_ ," he drawled. "My point is: nobody is gonna laugh at clowns squirting water at each other unless they have a reason to want to see you get hurt - of course, just being clowns would be enough, but you know what I mean."

Jillian mulled that over in her mind. "Like with Yosemite Sam," she said with a slow nod. "He gets blown up a lot, but it's always funny because he's the bad guy and has a really short fuse."

Slappy shrugged, his face crinkling. "Whoever that is."

She stopped, raising an eyebrow. "Haven't you ever watched Bugs Bunny?"

He grimaced. "Most of the kids I end up with don't exactly take me down to the family room to watch television," he said flatly.

She paused, considering that. She was not that surprised, actually. If it were not for their deal, Slappy would never be someone she would voluntarily hang out with - even if he were human - and she could not blame other children for keeping him at arm's length. He was rude, unsettling, and had all the maturity of a two-year-old. He could dish out insults left and right but could not take his own medicine. It was no wonder no one wanted to be around him.

And yet... it was kind of sad to think about.

In any case, she still had to make it up to him for an uneventful day. She stuffed her unfinished math homework into her backpack and rose to her feet. "C'mon, let's go downstairs," she said, grabbing him by his waist and lugging him over her shoulder.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Advice is appreciated. :)


	4. Chapter 4

"Of course, you realize this means war," Bugs told the audience as gooey globs of blackberry pie oozed down his furry head.

"Actually, I thought the magician's gag was brilliant," Slappy sniffed disdainfully.

"You would," Jilian said dryly, tapping her pencil against the lined page in front of her, which was already covered in scribbled ideas from their movie marathon. They were both sitting on the floor of the basement rec room, their backs against the couch.

"But the set-up was perfect," Slappy insisted. "The magician asks the rabbit if he wants pie. Then the furry sap looks so happy, practically _begging_ for it. The magician makes one appear, and then he gives it to him - _in the face!_ " He threw his head back and laughed.

"Yes, but we don't root for the bad guy, Slappy," she said, rubbing her ear as she grabbed the remote and rewound the video so that she could rewatch what she had missed - even though she already had this short memorized.

He grinned at her. "In a perfect world, we would."

"You're hilarious."

"I know."

Jillian glanced at her notes. She was starting to get it - she hoped. A comedy act had to be more than just saying one random knock-knock joke after another; it was putting together gags that followed a theme or told a story. Also, a joke required buildup and payoff. Sometimes, a joke was funny because the audience thought it was going one way (like a rabbit getting a pie), but then something unexpected happened (the rabbit getting creamed with it). Other times a joke was funny because a character desperately wanted something, but everything in the universe prevented him from getting it: like Elmer Fudd trying to shoot Bugs, only to get shot himself instead - or the Coyote trying to catch the Road Runner - or Sylvester trying to eat Tweety - or basically any _Looney Tunes_ short ever.

"How 'bout this?" she said slowly as the _Merrie Melodies_ theme for the next cartoon began to play. "I squirt Harrison - and say a magic word or something. He tries to do the same thing with _his_ card, but no water comes out. We trade cards, but it still doesn't work for him, and I squirt him with his own card. And then it keeps going, on and on, until..." She bit her lip, trying to think of a good payoff. "Any ideas?"

"Skip the cards altogether and just hit him over the head with a hammer," Slappy said simply.

She gave him a look. "That wouldn't be funny."

"But it would make _me_ laugh." He gave another high-pitched giggle.

Jillian rolled her eyes. What did she really expect when Slappy's entire act consisted of him hurling insults at his ventriloquist? They were not even clever ones at that, just comparing his face to vomit and wrinkled money. She had heard better taunting on a school playground. "So, what would you say the theme of your act with Jimmy was?" she asked slowly, glancing at him.

He smiled, straightening his checked bowtie. "The suave and devilishly handsome dummy steals the show from the whiny geek with his brilliant repartee and charm."

Jillian promptly snorted into her notebook. "No, seriously."

He gave her an ugly look. He started to speak - and then came the sound of the basement door opening and heavy footsteps descending. The two of them went still.

"That's Dad," Jillian said softly. Slappy's head immediately drooped and slumped against her arm - and she coolly pushed him the other way just as her father's balding head appeared.

"Hey, Noodle," he greeted. "You might want to take the party upstairs. I'm gonna work on the coffee table for awhile."

"But it's almost eight-thirty," she protested, hitting the pause button on the remote.

Dad reached the bottom and stopped, his eyes falling upon the dummy. "Well, what do we got here?" he grinned. "Does Slippy enjoy being your house guest?"

" _Slappy_. And he complains about everything," she replied truthfully.

"Always my clown," he laughed, coming closer. His green eyes twinkled as he reached for the puppet. "So, if _you're_ Noodle, does that make _him_ Penne?"

Jillian made a face. "That's awful, Dad."

"Awfully good," he returned. "You and Harrison could do a lot short jokes with this guy, you know - and, hey, Tappy here could shoot back tall jokes." He swung Slappy's slender body around like a rag doll and set him on his knee. "Hey there, Noodle!" he made the dummy say. "You're so-o-o-o tall, I heard you once did a cartwheel and gave an angel a black-eye!"

Jillian groaned. "Please, don't give him ideas," she murmured under her breath.

"And then," her father continued, not seeming to hear her, "you could say, 'Oh, yeah? Well, you're so short, I heard the Lollipop Guild kicked you off their basketball team!'" Dad chuckled, but then he suddenly squinted as his eyes fell upon Slappy's damaged head. "Wow. It really _is_ busted up. Where did you say Harrison found it again?"

"In the trash."

He held Slappy's face by the chin, turning his head side to side. "Hmm, looks like softwood pine or white cedar - my guess. Must have been a cheap job when it was made."

"He looks okay to me," she said quickly.

He reached into Slappy's back and made his chin drop. "Yeah, but better-quality puppets would have been made of a hardwood. Look at the texture here," he said, showing her the unpainted roof of his mouth. "This is what you'd use to make cheap boxes, like a temporary crate or a pauper's coffin, not a working dummy." His round eyes narrowed at the bigger cracks in the wooden forehead. "It looks pretty old too. Amazing it's lasted this long."

An ugly look crossed Slappy's eyes, even as his jaw remained hanging, motionless.

"He looks okay to me," Jillian repeated flatly. "Can you find the wood for him?"

"It might be difficult," Dad said, poking a finger into Slappy's mouth. "It is an hour drive to the lumber yard. I may have to make a whole new jaw," he added, moving it up and down as he spoke.

Jillian saw the wooden eyes flash, and she saw the dummy tense, like a cat before it pounced on its prey...

...And she immediately grabbed his thin shoulders, yanking him into her lap. The ligneous teeth snapped the air, barely missing her father's fingers. "Watch it!" she cried.

"Whoa! That was close!" He frowned. "Should you really be playing with it right now?"

"Probably not, but he helps me think up jokes," she said through her teeth, gesturing to her notebook as she hauled Slappy over her shoulder and onto the couch. She shot the dummy an ugly look. _Watch it_.

Dad chuckled. "Bugs Bunny again? Does your dummy like the wascally wabbit?"

"I think he secretly likes it," she said, causing him to laugh again.

His green eyes glittered. "Well, if you get bored, you two could watch home movies together," he teased. "Hey, Sippy, would you like that?"

"No, he would _NOT_ ," she answered for him, feeling her face heat. Of all the things her dad could bring up - of ALL the things he could mention in front of a talking dummy - why did he have to go into dangerous territory?

Of course, her father only looked more amused. "What?" he said innocently. "You don't think he would like to watch the video of your seventh birthday party? Or your dance recital when you ate too much beforehand and - "

"Dad, _stop!_ " she cut him off, her voice coming out a squeak. There was no way those videos would see the light of day while Slappy was in the house.

"I'm just pressing your buttons, Noodle," he laughed, messing up her black hair. "Don't take it so seriously. It's not like anyone's here."

"No, you need to burn that tape," she said firmly. "If you love me, you'll destroy it."

"The best clowns can laugh at themselves first," he reminded her. He patted her dark head. "I'm gonna show that to your future husband one day, you know. Maybe he'll show it to the rest of your circus, and you can turn it into a first-class clown act."

Jillian scowled. "I think this counts as child abuse."

He tweaked her thin nose and then gave her arm a dismissive pat. "Okay, Ms. Sarcastic, skedaddle upstairs. I gotta get to work if I want the coffee table done by the time your grandma comes for Thanksgiving."

She got to her feet and hoisted Slappy onto her hip before she headed for the stairs, exhaling through her teeth. Her cheeks were still burning, and she dared not to look down at the dummy. Jillian managed to get halfway up before the shrill whine of the buzz saw started. She hurried up the rest of the steps and closed the door, which thankfully muffled most of the sound.

"What an idiot," she heard Slappy grumble into her shoulder.

She looked down sharply. "Hey, that's my dad you're talking about!" she warned with a soft hiss. "What were you thinking, trying to bite him like that?"

" _He's_ the one who started manhandling _me_ ," he growled. "Calling me a piece of cheap wood and sticking his filthy fingers in my mouth! He hasn't washed his hands in a few hours, I can tell ya that!"

Jillian sighed. She checked around the corner. The living room was deserted, and she could hear Mom in the kitchen, sweeping the floors. "He'd never do any of that if he knew you were alive," she said quietly.

"So, that makes it better?" he snapped. "The things I have to go through with you meatbags! Some of it would make your silky hair curl," he added, flicking at her long tresses.

He did have a point. "Just be glad you don't live with Sid from _Toy Story_ ," she said, starting up the stairs on soft steps. "That would be a nightmare."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm guessing that's another kids' movie?"

Jillian shook her head. "And you say **_I_** need work."

"Because you do," he smirked. At least he was smiling again. Suddenly, his eyes changed as if getting a new thought. "Hey, Jillian? Do your sisters watch T.V. in the basement or the den?"

"The den if they want cable. Us kids only really use the rec room when my parents have company over," she answered. "The girls have their own T.V., but it only has three channels that play cartoons. All the other ones are just weather and news - which is why Mom and Dad let them have it." Her parents had given the set to the twins to stop their complaining after Grandma Molly gave Jillian her private bedroom phone for her birthday. Her parents would cave into any request to get them to shut up. "They have a VCR too. Mom sometimes stays up just to make sure they're not watching movies after bedtime."

"Smart woman," he nodded. "I guess that means you get your brains from your dad, right?"

She stopped in her trek and turned to him. "You know, you're awfully sassy for a guy who is this high up the stairs."

She expected him to scowl or sneer, but to her surprise a different grin danced upon his face. His wooden hand tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear. "You're so angry when you're beautiful, you know that?"

Suddenly, it felt weird to hold him. She looked away and pressed on, hurrying to her door -

\- and her mother's voice exploded her from the bottom of the steps. " _JILLIAN! KATIE! AMANDA! YOU GIRLS GET IN THE KITCHEN **THIS** INSTANT!_ "

She stopped cold. She knew that tone.

"Well, _that_ took longer than I expected," she heard the dummy comment.

She immediately swung him around to face her. "What did you do?" she hissed.

"Looks like your mom found the orange juice," he snickered.

" _ **NOW** , GIRLS!_" Mom bellowed.

She felt her hands shake. "Didn't I ask you to tell me about your other pranks?" she demanded, sotto voce. She heard the television in the twins' room switch off. "You know, you're seriously making me wonder if this deal is actually worth it," she growled, grabbing the doorknob to toss him into her room - figuratively, of course. _Maybe_.

His painted eyes grew serious. "If you're done with the pranks, then you can pay up the favor you owe me," he rasped. " _Right now_."

"I'm really considering it," she said through clenched teeth. She shoved the door open, harder than she intended, causing it to swing into her closet wall -

\- and a piercing sound filled the air.

* * *

"This has gone far enough," Mom declared, her icy stare sweeping from one daughter to the next. "This fighting is not healthy for a family."

Jillian said nothing, her fists clenched. Her heart was still racing, and she shot a withering glare at her sisters. The three of them were lined up in the kitchen in front of the refrigerator, Dad on one side, Mom on the other.

Her mother turned to the twins. "What possessed you girls to tape your father's air horn to Jillian's door?" The girls did not respond but continued to stare at their socked feet. "Well?" Mom demanded.

The two glanced at each other. Finally, Katie spoke. "It was Harrison's idea!"

Jillian felt her stomach drop.

Dad rose a thick eyebrow, obviously not believing them. "Now, why would Harrison ever help you do that to Jillian?"

"We heard them talking!" Amanda cried, her dark brow arched. "Harrison and Jillian said they were gonna put the air horn on the toilet when Jillian watches us next Monday. So, we did it to her first!"

Jillian found herself under the stern gaze of both parents. She held up her hands. "We weren't gonna do it! I _told_ Harrison it was a bad idea!" she protested. She jabbed a finger at the twins. " _They_ were eavesdropping on me!"

Mom's lips pursed. "I don't like this, girls. At all. Sisters are supposed to love each other. You three are taking this fighting too far." It was then that she held up the clear bottle of orange juice - except, now that Jillian got a good look at it, it was not _quite_ the right shade... "Which one of you filled this with water and macaroni-cheese powder?" Mom demanded.

"Macaroni-cheese powder?" Jillian repeated, a tiny laugh escaping. "That's all?" From Mom's tone, she had started to wonder if Slappy had put cleaning chemicals in it or something. A rush of relief swept through her - which promptly faded at the glare her mother shot her.

"This is not funny, Jillian Louise," she scolded. "This juice came from an organic grocery store. It costs more money than the ordinary kind. This bottle was supposed to last for the family. Now, I'm giving you girls a chance to come forward. _Who_ did this?"

Jillian shook her head. "I didn't do it, Mom!" she said truthfully. "I _wouldn't_ do it!"

"We didn't do it either!" Katie insisted. "We can't even reach the macaroni in the pantry."

"You could get a chair," Jillian pointed out quickly.

Mom folded her arms, drumming her fingers. "Since none of you are owning up, all _three_ of you have to pay for this bottle."

Jillian felt her jaw drop. "But I spent most of my money buying stuff for the birthday party!" she protested.

"Well, then you'll have to give from what Mrs. Henly will pay you on Saturday," her mother responded coldly and turned to the twins. "Bring your piggy banks down here, now." The girls immediately slunk off.

Jillian recovered and turned to her father. "Dad, I didn't do it," she protested. " _They're_ the ones who always play tricks."

Dad squinted hard at her. "My honest thoughts, Jillian? This doesn't really sound like a trick two six-year-olds would dream up," he said slowly.

"Well, I _didn't_ do it," she insisted. "If I wanted to be mean to the twins, I wouldn't dump orange juice down the sink. I wouldn't be that stupid."

Mom planted her hands on her hips. "As far as I'm concerned, if the three of you can't get along, you'll all just suffer the consequences together until you do."

Jillian clenched her teeth. "Mom, that's not fair. They always start stuff, not me."

Mom's frosty eyes narrowed further. "I remember _you_ starting something this morning." She pointed a long finger at her. "Jillian, _you're_ the big sister. Like it or not, you're always going to be their role model, and that means turning the other cheek." She shook her head. "I don't know what made you think throwing a wild frog at Amanda this morning was a good thing, but this fighting with your sisters has to stop. If they act out, you come tell me or Dad, and we'll deal with them, but you do not _ever_ take matters into your own hands, do you understand?"

Jillian felt her eyes narrow. "But you _never_ deal with them!" she seethed, feeling her nails dig into her palms. "When they put the Halloween mask in my closet, you just laughed and told me to lighten up. Whenever they hit me with their doll and say Mary-Ellen slapped me, you just say, 'It was an accident. Don't take it seriously.' The only time y _ou_ took it seriously was with Petey, but they wouldn't have messed with him if you ever stopped them!"

"Jillian," Dad said, his eyes stern, "there is a big difference between a few harmless pranks and an act of cruelty. We'll discipline the girls when they do wrong, but you do _not_ have the right to retaliate. You'll be thirteen next year. You know better than to pick on six-year-olds."

"So, that means they can walk all over me?" she challenged, her voice becoming hoarse. "Do they have to burn down the house before you stop them?"

Dad's frown deepened. "Jillian, where is this talk coming from?"

Before she could come up with a decent answer, Mom pointed to the door, eyes flashing. "Go to bed, Jillian," she ordered. "If you're going to act like a two-year-old, I'm gonna treat you like a two-year-old. Go to bed. Now."

Further argument would be fruitless. Jillian turned on her heel and stormed out. She entered the living room just as the twins reached the bottom steps, their identical piggy banks in their small hands.

"Mary-Ellen _said_ you'd be sorry," Katie whispered as she passed.

* * *

Jillian thundered up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She did not say a word to the dummy sitting on her desk as she grabbed her pillow and smothered a scream.

"That bad, huh?" Slappy said around his fingers as he sucked off the tomato sauce from his chicken dinner.

She threw the pillow back onto the mattress and flopped onto her bed. "Sometimes, I can't _stand_ being in this family."

"It's okay. I can't stand your family either," he said sympathetically, setting the blue Tupperware bin to the side. "On the bright side, you can leave them someday."

"Not soon enough," she muttered. She then told him what had transpired downstairs.

When she finished, his painted face took on a strange expression. "Are you gonna stop, like your mother said?"

She gritted her teeth. "Fat chance."

His eyes gleamed. "That's my girl." He steepled his sticky fingers. "Besides your mom's hissy fit, what did you think of the prank? I hope it wasn't too… _CHEESY_."

Jillian exhaled and sat up, swinging her legs to face him. "Seriously, you gotta let me know what you've done since last night, buster. If this deal is gonna work, you can't keep getting me into trouble."

He smiled sweetly, undeterred. "I'll write you a list," he promised and rapped a knuckle against her desk, and she quickly retrieved her notebook. While he wrote, she grabbed her purple nightshirt and - thinking better of it - a pair of blue pajama bottoms and headed to the bathroom to change. When she came back, he was still scribbling furiously, chuckling darkly to himself.

She was about to set up the suitcase for him when her eyes fell upon the lizard tank. She stopped, heart skipping a beat. She had forgotten to feed Petey.

She immediately grabbed the lizard food she kept on the shelf and lifted the cracked lid. "Sorry, buddy," she murmured, wincing as Petey pecked greedily at each offering. Poor baby. With her free hand, she began to stroke his soft, scaly back, but he slunk forward, more interested in dinner than pets. "Yeah, yeah. 'Mama, feed me.'"

First, she had forgotten the rehearsal with Harrison; then she forgot Petey - because she had a talking dummy who coughed a frog at Amanda, altered Katie's homework, watched Looney Tunes with her and helped her with her clown routine, swapped out her family's orange juice with cheese powder, and promised to help her pull even more pranks. What a day.

At that thought she turned to see Slappy watching her with interest - well, her and Petey this time - and looking only slightly less unnerving. She held up the container. "You wanna help feed him?"

"No, I was just wondering if you would share those delicious bugs," he quipped, patting his flat belly. "I'm still feeling peckish."

She guessed he was trying to get a rise out of her, but she found herself smiling. It was the sort of thing she would have told her sisters to gross them out. She gestured to the abandoned notebook. "You done?" He nodded his grinning head, looking mighty proud of himself. She skimmed the list, nodding to herself - and then frowned, turning to him. "Number nine? _Really_?"

His smirk widened. "Give it time."

She carefully stuck the notebook in her backpack. She would throw the list away at school the next day. No point in letting it fall in the wrong hands - she stopped in her task and turned to the dummy with a frown. "Slappy, they heard Harrison talking about the air-horn prank."

"A regular four-leaf clover, ain't he?" he drawled.

She shook her head. "They were eavesdropping on us. They came in here while we were downstairs," she said slowly. She looked him up and down. "The girls say Mary-Ellen wants you to stay in their room. They must've come in here looking for you."

His face crinkled. "The voodoo doll is persistent. I'll give her that - along with a swift kick to the head," he added, shooting his foot into the air.

Jillian shivered. "What would she do to you?" she asked softly. "Could she really hurt you?"

"Mayhaps," he said darkly. Then a smirk appeared. "Or maybe she wants a date for the weekend. Not that I can really blame her. I have that effect on a lot of females," he added, gripping his lapels smugly. He winked. "As I'm sure you're well aware."

She shot him a withering look. "Are you ever _not_ gross?"

He held out his hand. "Hello, I don't believe we've met. Name's Slappy. Nice to meet me."

* * *

She got out the suitcase and towel from the closet and began to set up the bed.

"Hey, Jillian," Slappy suddenly said. "I noticed your sisters have a lot of toys."

She paused, turning to face him. "Why?" she asked slowly. "Are any of _them_ alive too?"

"Whistle and see what happens," he cracked. He swung himself to the edge of the desk, letting his wooden legs dangle. "Actually, I need to know a little more about the twerps if we want to make our future pranks… _personalized_. If a kid has braces, you don't offer them spicy bubblegum - because they'll never take it."

She nodded, getting it. "Is that a prankster secret?"

"No, that's just common sense." He held up his hands, a sympathetic look on his face. "I know, I know, it's hard for you to tell the difference, so I'll try to talk slow."

Jillian rolled her eyes. "Yeah, the girls got a bunch of stuff," she answered. "Two of everything. It's like an ocean of toys when they drag everything out."

His eyes glittered. "You'll have to let me have a look at them tomorrow when Mary-Ellen's downstairs." He beckoned her to come closer, and she complied. "Okay, doll face. Prankster secret number one…"

* * *

Two days later, Jillian made sure to wave to her mother in the den as soon as she got home from school. "I'm taking the girls out like I told Dad," she called. She had told her father that morning that she wanted to be nicer to the twins and had asked him for an advance on her allowance since she would not get paid until Saturday - which gave her that little bit of truth necessary to sell the pitch.

Mom turned from the television and gave her a warm smile. "I'm proud of you, Jillian. This is very grown-up of you."

Jillian hurried up the steps and cast a look at her door. Good. The slip of paper was still there. For the past two days she made sure to put it as high as she could, just as Slappy had instructed, so that the twins would not be able to replace it exactly as they found it, even if one stood on the other's shoulders.

Wasting no time, she entered her room and carefully set down the paper cup she had smuggled into the house beside her door. Slappy was on the desk, next to Dad's cassette player and headset which she had brought up for him, and he gave her a wink, which she returned. She quickly headed down the hall to the girls' room, forcing a casual air even though she felt like skipping.

The girls were sitting in front of their T.V. set, watching _The Magic School Bus_. Mary-Ellen was between them, as usual. Jillian knocked on the door frame. "Hey, girls. Guess what. Dad gave me some money this morning to take you for a treat," she announced.

Amanda turned her head, green eyes shining with excitement. "Really?"

"No, thanks," Katie said, eyes still on the television.

Jillian felt her mouth twitch but quickly recovered. She forced her sincerest-looking smile and held up her wallet. "C'mon, we can go get slushies at Seven-Eleven or cones at Dairy Queen. You girls can pick. We can go to the playground afterward if you guys want."

"Yeah!" Amanda cheered.

Katie paused, looking intrigued. "Maybe after this is over." She turned back to the television set.

 _Stay natural_. Jillian put her hand on her hips. "C'mon, Katie, I only have an hour to do this. I got rehearsal with Harrison later, and I still have homework. Besides, this is a re-run."

"But I _like_ this episode," Katie pouted.

" _I'll_ go with you, Jillian!" Amanda cried, climbing to her feet. Though she was usually the calmer of the twins, she now closed the distance between her and Jillian with hopping steps.

Jillian tapped her wrist. "Tick-tock, Katie. If you don't go with us, you don't get anything."

"You guys can go," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

 _Think, think, think_. "You'll miss out on ice cream or slushies for a cartoon?" Jillian demanded.

"Ye-e-e-s, because I like - " Katie suddenly stopped, turning to Mary-Ellen. For a moment, she was a silent, but then a grin stretched across her face. "Okay, I'll go. Mary-Ellen was bored today in the house. Since you won't let her play with Slappy."

 _Gotcha_. Jillian exhaled, pretending to be annoyed. "Who says she gets to come?"

Amanda frowned. "She wants to have fun too."

"She's not even alive," Jillian sniffed. "How can she have feelings?" _Sell it. Sell it_.

"I'm not going unless she comes too!" Katie pouted, hugging the frizzy-haired doll close.

"Me either!" Amanda chimed in, folding her arms.

"All for one, and one for all," Katie added.

Jillian exhaled again and threw up her hands as if too annoyed to keep arguing. "Fine! If it'll shut you guys up. Let's go."

The two cheered, their thin faces smug as they high-fived each other. Jillian had to turn away to keep from laughing.

She hurried into her bedroom and grabbed Slappy by the waist, propping him on her hip, and strode out into the hall, forcing an air of nonchalance - and made sure to keep her bedroom door open. She trotted down the stairs and made a point to wave to her mother in the den - and concealed the dummy behind the door frame. "We'll leave as soon as they come down," she told her.

"Have fun," she replied, "and be safe."

"Mixed messages," Slappy murmured into her shoulder as Jillian stepped out onto the front stoop.

She did not have long to wait. The twins came flying down the downstairs, doll in tow, and shoved their little feet into their shoes by the door before bursting into the open air, cheering. They sprinted down the front steps - Katie leaping over the last three - and broke into a run toward the sidewalk.

"Hey, wait!" Jillian cried, hurrying down herself and causing Slappy's head to bounce about.

They barely glanced over their shoulders - and then promptly did identical double takes, stopping in their tracks. "You're bringing _him_ too?" Katie asked, amazed.

"Yep," she chirped. "We might as well _all_ look like big babies." That line had been Slappy's idea. She hoped she sounded convincing - and to her delight she was rewarded with two scowls.

"We _aren't_ babies!"

"Goo-goo," she replied. "So, is it slushies or ice cream?"

"Ice cream! Ice cream!" Katie chanted.

"Slushies!" Amanda insisted.

Her twin scowled. "No way!"

"We had ice cream last Saturday! I want slushies!"

Jillian rolled her eyes. "Rock-Paper-Scissor for it," she suggested.

The two started to comply, but Amanda suddenly looked at the doll in her arms. "Actually, on second thought, Mary-Ellen doesn't like slushies," Amanda said, shrugging indifferently. "Let's get ice cream."

The two girls immediately turned in the direction of Dairy Queen, and the four-block trek began.

Jillian's heart fluttered in her chest. From behind the girls, she felt safe enough to give Slappy's small hand a soft squeeze - which he discreetly returned.

* * *

The teenage cashier did not even bat an eye at seeing the two huge dolls. He even said hello to Mary-Ellen when the twins introduced her and shook her hand. "What can I get for you, Mary-Ellen?" he said.

"She wants a cone," Katie told him.

Jillian quickly stepped between them. "No way," she said. "Dad only gave me enough for the three of us."

"You're always leaving her out of things," Amanda frowned.

"Well, Slappy's not getting one," she said briskly. She did not mind stalling, a little, since they had time to kill, but there was still a line behind them, and there was no way she was ever going to buy that plastic thing another thing. Ever.

"That's not fair," Katie insisted, and the two began a chant. "Not fair! Not fair!"

The people behind them were beginning to stare. Jillian gritted her teeth. This was how they suckered her into giving in last time. She suddenly got an idea. "If you really want her to have one, then one of you can always give up your cone for her." It worked like a charm. Both of their faces promptly fell, and they dropped the subject there to Jillian's relief.

Soon enough their order was ready, and the cashier handed the girls their treats. "Don't feel bad. All that ice cream isn't good for dolls."

"Dolls don't _ever_ get sick," Katie sniffed rudely and flounced off carrying both ice creams while Amanda lugged the doll.

"Sorry about that," Jillian apologized to him quickly. "How do you keep a straight face?"

He gave an easy shrug. "You see a lot of weird stuff in this business," he said with a grin. "One kid brought in a sponge that she said feeds off bad luck. That's weirder than your two dolls."

 _I doubt that_.

The girls had picked the big circular booth in the corner and were sitting in the center. Jillian slid in on the left, where she had a good view of the restaurant's wall clock, and propped the dummy beside her on the inside. Only forty-five minutes to go...

"If you girls eat fast, we can go to the playground after this," she reminded them, focusing on her own cone.

Suddenly, she heard a rustle and saw Amanda moving the big doll across her lap. "Mary-Ellen wants to sit next to Slappy," she declared, planting the plastic body next to the wooden one.

"Who says Slappy wants to sit next to Mary-Ellen?" Jillian retorted, instinctively pulling the dummy closer to her.

"She wants to be his friend," Katie insisted. "Why don't you let them play together?"

Jillian gently grabbed Slappy's neck and jiggled his head as if he were speaking. "Because Mary-Ellen doesn't bathe," she said, imitating Slappy's raspy voice as best as she could.

"She's not as stinky as you," Amanda shot back, sticking out her tongue.

"Ow, that hurt," Jillian cracked, covering her heart. For a brief moment, she considered moving the puppet to the other side of her, but she knew she had to keep pretending that he was not alive. "Fine then. If Mary-Ellen is so _desperate_ for attention..." She propped Slappy against the seat and shot him a quick look. _Sorry, pal_.

Amanda adjusted the doll's dress - which was actually a white Easter frock that Amanda had outgrown last year - and leaned her against the dummy. Jillian coolly reached over and straightened the doll. "Remember playground rules? Hands and feet to yourself." Amanda just stuck out her tongue again.

The minutes ticked by slowly, and the twins were absorbed in their one-sided conversation with Mary-Ellen, but for once Jillian did not mind. To her surprise and annoyance, Amanda gave Mary-Ellen her cone, and the twins took turns licking their shared ice cream while Amanda fed Mary-Ellen. Jillian tried to act disinterested, but she kept stealing glimpses at the doll, hoping to catch her mouth moving.

With a glance at the dummy, Jillian pinched off a piece of the cone and used it as a spoon to dip just the tiniest taste of ice cream before putting it up to Slappy's red lips. "Wanna try some? Wanna take my whole cone?" she asked mockingly, causing the girls to scowl. Of course, he could not reply, but Jillian thought adding a cheap shot was a good touch. In any case, if Amanda was willing to sacrifice her ice cream, she did not want Slappy to feel left out. She gingerly reached into his back and tugged the string that controlled his mouth, just enough for her to slip the treat inside - she hoped he liked chocolate.

Finally, the hands on the restaurant clock read four o'clock, and Jillian felt a smile spread. Dad should be getting home by now. Naturally, he would head up to his bedroom to change and then take his afternoon nap before dinner - and when he did...

"You guys ready to go?" she asked sweetly.

"Mary-Ellen's not finished with her ice cream yet!" Amanda protested.

"And you said we'd go to the playground!"

Jillian scooted out of the booth, slipping an arm around Slappy's slender waist. "I said we'd go if you guys finished fast. C'mon. Mary-Ellen can eat on the way. Harrison's coming over soon."

"Harrison's always coming over," Katie grumbled.

"I still got homework, and I bet you guys do too - or do you want to get into trouble again, Katie?" she added.

Katie made a face.

It was slow going since the twins were trying to feed Mary-Ellen while walking four blocks. The ice cream was already starting to melt, and it was dripping onto her white dress. It was sort of funny to watch them trying to hold the cone to the doll's mouth, crying "Oops!" whenever a thick, dark drop fell, and use their own sleeves to wipe her face, and Jillian found it easier than normal to be patient - as excited as she was to get home.

"Classy lady, ain't she?" she drawled softly, nodding to the doll. She glanced at the dummy - and could not resist adding, "Think the two of you would ever hit it off?"

He said nothing, of course.

His checkered bowtie had gotten crooked at some point, so she adjusted it for him and took another look at his disheveled appearance. His frayed sports jacket and baggy gray slacks were more than wrinkled now. His white shirt had a gray smudge, and his black shoes were beginning to lose their shine. She considered offering to help him with the washing machine, but she wondered what he could wear while he waited. Dad's shirts would be too big, and she did not think he would be up for wearing girls' clothing, even a generic T-shirt. "Maybe I can ask Mom if she'll fix this for you," she murmured, straightening his frayed jacket. "Or Harrison's grandma. She's really good. Maybe we can drop your jacket off with her, or maybe she can tell us where they sell doll clothes."

She smoothed his crinkled checked lapels, and she felt a small shudder pass through his skinny frame - and promptly heard a gasp. She tore her eyes from Slappy and saw the girls watching her with wide eyes, both of them clutching Mary-Ellen's hands. The doll was directly facing her. Though that unblinking violet gaze appeared as blank as always, it seemed to bear into her somehow.

Jillian narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"Mary-Ellen wants us to hurry up," Amanda insisted, and before Jillian could stop her, she tossed the unfinished cone down the sewer drain.

The rest of the trip home was uneventful, and soon their yellow house came into sight. Jillian could not stop the grin from spreading when she saw her father's car in the driveway.

She turned to the girls. "Did you like it?"

"Yes," they replied. "Mary-Ellen likes ice cream."

"Maybe we can do something together on Saturday before I have to go to the party," Jillian said slowly.

"We're going to Stevie's house on Saturday," Katie reminded her.

"Okay, Monday after school," she suggested, grinning. "We can go to the library."

Jillian kept herself from running up the front steps and nonchalantly pulled open the storm door. "We're home!" she sang out.

Right on cue, Dad's voice came from the top of the stairs. "Jillian, is Katie with you?" He sounded furious.

She winked at the dummy.

* * *

Dad pointed to the big queen-sized bed. "Katrina, is this your idea of a joke?" he demanded, and with delicious delight Jillian followed his gaze. The green comforter had been pulled back, revealing white sheets that had been soiled by a small pile of dirt and -

"Worms!" Amanda shrieked, springing behind her twin.

Katie's green eyes widened with horror. "I didn't do that, Daddy!"

"Then why did we find _this_ under your bed?" Mom said coolly from the doorway, holding up the paper cup. There was a residual amount of dirt at the bottom.

Jillian bit her cheek to keep her face straight.

"I was watching T.V. with Amanda," Katie protested.

"So, you're saying that you, who always do mean things to the kids at school with worms, did not do it?" her mother asked. "Just like you didn't hand in your math homework with those silly answers?"

"Amanda is afraid of worms," Dad said. "She would never touch them."

"And I took the girls to Dairy Queen as soon as I got home, remember?" Jillian chimed in quickly. "And I wouldn't do something that stupid."

Mom looked at her sharply. "Jillian Louise, it's not your place."

"Yes, Mom," she said quickly and sidestepped around her, heading to her own room.

* * *

"That - was - awesome!" she exclaimed, and she gave into the impulse to swing the dummy in the air before she set him on the desk beside the cassette player.

He gripped his lapels. "Well, I can't take all the credit - oh, wait, yes, I can," he snickered. "We're so lucky your sisters have so many beanbag dolls. I doubt the pink teapots would've been much help." He rubbed his hands together, wicked glee on his face. "We'll wait a few weeks and then use the Beanie Babies again, but with something nastier," he giggled. "Maybe cockroaches or stinkbugs - or, better yet, bees!"

Jillian shook her head. "Not bees," she warned. "Mom is allergic. So are the twins."

"So, you're saying she'll never believe that they would do it," he said, nodding his head. "Smart thinking, doll."

"I'm _saying_ it's a bad idea."

He looked heavenward, shaking his head. "I'll never understand how you meatbags ever got control. You're all so fragile."

Jillian rolled her eyes, but she found her smile returning. "Man, that was just perfect! I still can't believe you did that."

"And that's why I'm the brains of this operation, doll face," he said, giving her hand a sympathetic pat. At her grimace, he giggled. "Seriously, a walking, talking dummy brought to life by magic, and you think he didn't learn a trick or two from his papa, the puppet maker?"

"Pinocchio never did magic," she said with a shake of her head, but she chuckled.

"Pinocchio is a made-up character; this is real life!" he returned. "Of course, unlike Pops, I can't make it _permanent -_ even I'm not perfect. That would just be unfair to the rest of you."

Jillian smiled at him. He kept getting weirder and weirder - but in a good way. Well, _this_ time. And this prank had been fun - sneaking into the twins' bedroom the day before while they were downstairs watching _Rugrats_ , playing look-out while Slappy breathed on each beanbag doll of the girls' extensive collection to bring them to life, then digging up the worms at school and smuggling them into her bedroom for the beanbag dolls to collect while they went for ice cream. It all felt like being in a spy movie.

She sat down on her desk chair, facing him. "So, the dolls are asleep again now?"

"Should be soon. It only lasts twenty-four hours."

She rested her chin against her hand, giving him a sweeping gaze. "What's the difference between them and you?"

His smile widened. He laid a hand over his jacket pocket, giving her a meaningful look. "I have a sweeter partner."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

He gave a shrug. "I told you. I am awake when anyone reads the ancient words. When that happens, we're bonded from then on. I live while they live - 'til death do us part." His eyes seemed to become a little more fixated. "Such is the price for my life."

She swallowed without meaning to. "How? What does that mean?"

"I'll try to put it terms you'll understand, sweetheart," he purred, his hoarse voice sweet as he took her unbruised left hand and gave it a genial pat. "You and I are partners in this lifetime - at least until our connection is severed. Permanently."

She studied him, trying to process it. "So," she said slowly, "if I died… you'd go back to sleep?"

"Something like that." He released her hand and held his own two as if he were strumming an invisible guitar. " _A dummy lives forever, but not so little girls_ ," he hummed.

A chill ran down her spine, causing her to shiver. "So, you just live with a person until they're gone, and then sleep until someone wakes you?" she asked quietly.

"Story of my life."

She shook her head. Why would a puppet maker bring a doll to life if that was the only existence it had to look forward to? "Not very fair. I wish there was a way you didn't have to worry about that."

A light appeared in his eyes. "We-e-e-ell, there _is_ a way," he said slowly, leaning a little closer, "but magic demands a price. For magic that big, it would take something very, very…" he paused, as if looking for the right word, "... _precious_."

 _Like what?_ she wanted to ask, but before she could open her mouth, the phone suddenly rang, causing her to start. She quickly grabbed the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey," she heard Harrison say, "I came by your house earlier, and you guys weren't home. What happened?"

She rolled her eyes. Typical Harrison. "I told you at lunch, remember? I had to take my sisters to Dairy Queen because my parents want me to be more nice to them," she said, but even as she said it, she felt a twinge of guilt. It was still weird lying to Harrison. Maybe, someday, she could show Slappy that he could be trusted.

"Want to still practice?" Harrison asked.

"Sure, Harrison, come on over," she said quickly and hung up. She turned and saw Slappy's ugly scowl. She folded her arms. "He's my friend," she scolded, "and we got a job in two days."

"I didn't say anything," he sniffed, turning away.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Advice is appreciated.

Okay, okay. I borrowed a _teensy_ bit from the TV series, but Book!Slappy could produce supernatural vomit in "Bride", so it's like Audrey II says, "If I can talk and I can move, who's to say I can't do anything I want?"

"You're so angry when you're beautiful..." - This is based on a line from the episode "Death Wish" from _Star Trek: Voyager_.


	5. Chapter 5

Friday morning, Dad discovered number three and number seven of Slappy's pranks within minutes of each other - and hit the roof.

As she stood lined up with her sisters, Jillian had to admit it was pretty funny.

* * *

"Girls, get your socks and shoes on!" Mom called down from the hall. "We're going to Stevie's now!"

Katie grinned but tried to pretend she was not that excited as she jumped off the bed, abandoning her picture book on the mattress. Mary-Ellen did not like it when they left her alone in the house. "See you later," she said to the doll.

"We're sorry Stevie's mom won't let us bring toys over," Amanda added quickly.

It was quite alright, Mary-Ellen told them, and to Katie's surprise, she had an image of a smile in her mind. Mary-Ellen rarely said anything out loud, even when they were alone, but Katie could always hear her in her head. Today, she sounded like she was in a good mood.

Amanda set the doll in her special chair, straightening the pink, lacy dress she wore. It had been Amanda's favorite dress, which Grandma Zinman had given her as a birthday present. Mary-Ellen had thought it looked very pretty, like something royalty would wear. Mary-Ellen had also admired the poofy dress, the flower dress, and the white lacy dress, so Amanda gave them all to her to make her happy.

Sometimes, Katie was glad she did not like dresses.

Katie brought over some books from the shelf and put them on the bed table within the doll's reach. They were not storybooks, but grown-up books from the living room which Katie had smuggled in months ago. "In case you get bored," Katie explained. Mary-Ellen liked it when they did nice things for her without being asked.

Mary-Ellen said thank you, and she sounded sweet. Very, very sweet. Katie did not know why, but she knew better than to question it. Mary-Ellen had been rather tense the past few days. She would not tell them the specifics of her bad mood, but Katie could feel the doll's anger in her mind, like a big explosion, whenever Jillian played with Slappy. Yesterday after school, Jillian had taken Slappy outside and had sat him under the big tree in the backyard while she caught bugs for Petey. Mary-Ellen had watched them from the window the entire time.

Then Jilian had taken Slappy downstairs to watch Bugs Bunny, and Mary-Ellen had wanted to follow. She did not want them in the basement together, alone. Katie did not understand why she would care, and Mary-Ellen would not say. However, Jillian had not wanted company.

"Look, you twerps," she had said, placing her notebook down, "I have a birthday party next week too, and I can't think up new jokes if you guys are in here making a racket."

"But we wanna watch too!" Amanda had insisted, plopping Mary-Ellen right next to the dummy just like the doll had told her. "We like Bugs Bunny too!"

Jillian had moved Slappy onto her other side, putting an arm around his shoulders like a mother. "If you get Mary-Ellen outta here, then you can watch with me."

Katie had folded her arms. "If Slappy's here, she gets to be here."

"My movie, my rules."

Katie had then looked at the dummy, who had grinned back at her, looking straight at her with hard blue eyes. He always had a mean smile on his face. Even if Mary-Ellen really _had_ wanted to go back upstairs, there was no way Katie would ever want to be near the dummy without her close at hand. "Why do you want to play with Slappy? He's so ugly."

"So's Mary-Ellen, but you still play with her," Jillian had snickered. "You guys didn't seem to mind his looks when you tried to scare me last week."

"We scared you good though," Katie had said. "You _really_ thought he was alive."

The face Jillian had made then had caused both her and Amanda to laugh, but then Jillian had just stood up, stuffed the Bugs Bunny tape back on the shelf, and carried Slappy upstairs. "Hey, Slappy. You like checkers?" she had said loudly.

Katie had then felt the explosion of anger in her mind - like a hot, spewing volcano - and Mary-Ellen had been in a bad mood for the rest of the day.

"C' _mon_ , girls!" Mom called again, cutting into her thoughts.

"Bye!" Katie said quickly, waving, and hopped into the hallway. She wanted to sail down the stairs, but Amanda stopped at the door.

"Are you comfy?" she asked the doll.

Very comfy, Mary-Ellen assured them both and told them to have fun.

"We'll leave the door open for you," Amanda promised.

The two hurried downstairs and put on their shoes, which they kept by the door, and followed Mom to the car.

Then Mom looked over her shoulder. "Katie, I'm letting you go to Stevie's house because you three need to practice your songs for the school play, but I'm going to tell Mrs. Jones that you cannot watch any movies or T.V. there, do you understand?"

Katie exhaled through her teeth.

Mom stopped in her tracks. "Do I need to march you back inside?" she demanded, putting her hands on her hips.

Katie quickly shook her head. "No, Mom." She tried not to scowl as she approached the car, knowing Mom's eyes were still on her. She reminded herself that Mary-Ellen had said not to make a big fuss about the worms. She would take care of it.

Katie climbed into the car first and sat on her side, Amanda close behind. The two sat very still as the car started and backed down the driveway.

It was not until they could no longer see the window of their bedroom that Katie finally smiled.

* * *

"How do I look?" Jillian asked, parading into her room. Her baggy clown costume was a mustard yellow with an array of different colored polka dots and topped off with a rainbow ruff. She twirled and was glad to see that the curly wig remained in place.

Slappy looked up from the _Animorphs_ book. "Did a paint store attack you?" he cracked.

Jillian scoffed, straightening her big ruff. "For your information, clown costumes are _supposed_ to look ridiculous."

"Well, then you got your money's worth," he replied, flipping the pages with his thumb, no doubt to watch the black-and-white image of Cassie morph into a dolphin. He had already worked his way through her _Shivers_ collection, which he claimed was not that scary, and had decided to try sci-fi - since he had nothing better to do, he said. He was already on the fourth book, even though he insisted it was just juvenile dribble.

Jillian grabbed a big dead fly from the paper cup on her shelf and held it up to Petey's face as an offering. She did not want to overfeed the little lizard - the vet said he actually needed to lose a few pounds - but after forgetting him on Tuesday night, she tried not to leave the room without seeing if he was hungry first. Petey did not seem interested in the treat though, and she stuffed the fly back with the others. Slappy had helped her catch them yesterday, using his limited magic to summon them - in small numbers, of course.

She turned back to him. "You gonna be okay in here while I'm gone? Or do you want me to take you to the basement so you can watch videos?"

"Or you can take me with you," Slappy suggested. "It's not too late to add a dummy to the mix. I already have my own act."

 _Yeah, comparing Harrison to skunk breath_. Jillian sat down on the bed, trying to think of a diplomatic response.

"It's not that I'm ungrateful for all your help," she said at last. "It's just, well, this is my first job. Ever. I wanna show everyone that I can do it - be a good clown, I mean." She rubbed the yellow material between her fingers. "Yeah, Mom and Dad made the costumes, but everyone gives me weird looks when I tell them I want to be a clown when I grow up. Even Harrison doesn't _really_ want to help me today. He's just doing it 'cause he's my friend - and I'm paying him." She gave a small shrug. "I'm not gonna run away to the circus, but I want to entertain at kids' parties. It's easy enough for someone my age to do, and I like acting silly."

"So do I, but there are some lines even **_I_** won't cross," Slappy cracked.

"Yeah, well, I like making people laugh. Dad says you need a lot of empathy to be a clown - because what you're _really_ doing is making people feel a little better and forget their problems for a short time. That's something I'd like to be able to do."

" _Bleh!_ " the puppet gagged, shuddering. "Please, Jillian, I _ate_ this morning."

He reminded her of her cousin, Martin, whenever there was a kissing scene in a movie. Jillian gave a small chuckle. "You're such a boy, you know that?"

"Vampires have fangs. Werewolves shed. Your dad has bad breath." At her look, he added, "I'm sorry. I thought we were playing 'Let's State the Obvious'."

She shook her head, allowing the crack at her dad to slide. For now. She nodded toward the door. "I'll get going as soon as Harrison's done getting ready. Mom's helping him put on his makeup."

Slappy's eyes grew wide. "You mean he _wasn't_ wearing clown makeup this whole time?"

"You're just jealous 'cause he's gonna look prettier than you," she replied, which caused him to scowl. She leaned back on her hands, giving him a kind look. "You two could be friends, you know. He really likes you."

"As a toy," he returned, unimpressed. Then his smirk reappeared. "But I love the kid, really. If Jumbo actually knew anything about woodwork, you and me would never have become partners."

Jillian considered that. What would have happened if Harrison had taken Slappy home that day instead of leaving him for Dad to fix? What if Harrison had woken him up instead?

...Well, then she would have never had known about Mary-Ellen; the twins would continue to be mean to her with no repercussions, and she would have never been a part of an awesome prank involving worms and living beanbag dolls.

She gave him a small smile. "Harrison found you in the trash because he was helping me look for the twins after they ran off - and the twins ran off because they wanted to make Jimmy O'James apologize for all the mean stuff _you_ said to them, buster," she added, poking his hard chest.

An odd expression crossed his wooden face. "Sounds like something in the universe wants us together."

She laughed. "You think so?"

His blue eyes grew serious. "I don't believe in coincidences."

"I suppose worse things could've happened," she joked.

Slappy tapped his chin, a smirk suddenly playing on his lips. "Ye-e-es, you might even say we were... _MADE_ for each other." He gave her an emphasized wink, clicking his tongue - despite not having one.

Jillian rolled her eyes, managing to keep the rest of her face straight. She had already figured it out - he only told those kinds of jokes for shock value since he got a kick out of seeing her squirm. As such she had decided not to give him the satisfaction. "You could torture someone with your puns, you know," she cracked as she got to her feet to go check on Harrison.

"Don't think I haven't tried," he called as the door closed behind her.

She reached the open bathroom door just as the boy's huge frame emerged - and immediately burst out laughing, slapping her knees.

"Jillian, be nice," Mom warned from her parents' room.

"What are you talking about? He looks _awesome_!" she cried. He looked like one of the hobo clowns on her circus posters. He had a bald, white head except for a little ball of red hair on the top of his rubber skullcap (which had big rubber ears nearly as long as his head). His face was completely white except for a bi-i-i-i-ig black frown and black circles around his eyes. The red baggy one-piece costume with the big blue ruff around his neck that he kept trying to smooth down was just gravy.

Harrison scowled, which only made the painted frown look more hilarious. "I'm gonna get you for this, Jillian," he grumbled. "I just hope no one from school sees us."

"C'mon, you look pretty! Pretty funny," she laughed, causing him to grimace more. "You got the playing cards?"

"Yeah," he replied, holding up the bag of tricks in his thick hand. "Along with the water pitcher."

Jillian nodded. "I filled the pie with whip cream earlier. It's on the kitchen counter. We'll grab it and go."

They had not been able to practice a lot with the pie since the whip cream had to be added last - and Mom was very big against wasting food as it was - but Jillian felt confident about the new routine. Originally, they were just going to pull the pie out, put their faces up to sniff, and then squirt themselves, but Jillian had taken the "humor from suffering" idea to write a new act. After the squirting-card hijinks, Zippy and Zappy decide to be friends again and eat a pie together. Each time they put their forks close, Harrison would gently squeeze the pump to make the pie bubble. On and on it would go until both clowns were sprayed in the face - and then they would reach into the pie and pull out a little party favor in a Ziplock bag to give to the birthday girl. (Slappy had thought it was too cheesy of an ending, but what did he know?)

Harrison started down the stairs, but Jillian suddenly got an idea. "Hang on. Come in here for a second," she insisted, motioning toward her bedroom. Harrison obeyed and followed her through the open door.

Slappy was still on the bed, but the book now lay beside him as he stared blankly at the door. Jillian winked at the dummy and ushered Harrison in before discreetly nudging her head toward the white-and-black makeup job.

"Why did I have to come in here?" Harrison asked, his dark eyes narrowing.

Jillian grinned. "No reason. Let's go."

* * *

Oh, what to do? What to do? Slappy chuckled to himself as he paced the perimeter of the bed - a little difficult on the soft mattress since he had to keep his knees locked to move, but he found a new energy that propelled him forward. He had not felt this inspired in a long, long while. Sure, he _technically_ could not outright endanger the two brats - at least, not without Jillian trying to run him through her father's table saw - but it was right what they said about how one was more creative when limits were put on one's craft. It was really amazing how many little ways there were to ruin someone's day. Besides the around-the-house miseries, the oncoming cold weather brought about its own possibilities - like soaking the girls with water balloons during a cold snap - and he had quite a few experiments he wanted to try with pudding. This was the most fun he had had in years - and this time around he actually had someone to spread the mayhem with.

"Such a nice accomplice your little mistress is, Petey boy," he said companionably to the dozing lizard before his eyes fell upon the bowl of trail-mix that Jillian had left for him on her bedside table - not because he could feel hunger, which he could not, but just because she wanted him to feel comfortable.

Such a sweet girl.

An incredibly stupid, but very sweet - _very_ pretty - girl.

It was almost bizarre the way she paid attention to him - to be sure, it was exactly the type of behavior he had always expected from a slave, but it was bizarre that she did it without him needing to establish his authority as her master first - or without even knowing that he _was_ her master at all. Humans were tricky that way: they froze up when they saw a talking dummy, but once they were informed they were slaves for life, they tended to act irrationally and do stupid things, like locking their master in a closet or stuffing him down sewer drains or cramming cursed sandwiches inside his handsome head. It was almost a shame that her little bubble would have to be popped eventually. _Almost_.

Still, it was a good thing that she was so nice. That made it easier for him to be nice to her, and for once it suited his purposes to be nice to a human. Because when he finally claimed his favor, she would never begin to guess what he had in mind for her.

Slappy snickered, already able to imagine _that_ future.

He had always intended to amass an army of slaves before he moved onto the next phase of his plan, but when fate slipped you such a prettily wrapped present, you did not wait two months for Christmas to unwrap it. You claimed what rightfully belonged to you. Of course, he would have been a lot further along if Jimmy had known his place, but the sniveling dropout was always harping about "sharing the spotlight" and "telling wholesome jokes." Then the twerp had had to go and make a big fuss after their last show together, threatening to stop his master's evil once and for all.

So, of course, Slappy had had to teach him a lesson.

Jimmy had staggered back then, clutching his freshly bleeding nose with his free hand - and then he had stopped, staring at the half-open door. Slappy had whirled around in his arms, following his gaze...

...And had seen a sweet little beast with big green eyes staring back at him.

It had taken Slappy a moment to remember he was supposed to play dead. He had crumpled in Jimmy's arms, and Jimmy had laid him on the dresser as the pretty beast stepped into the light. Fortunately, Slappy had been facing the door, and he could study the adorable animal in better detail. She was just as much a juice-filled flesh bag as the rest of her kind, but, as Jimmy had begun to sell her a cover story about accidentally losing his grip on a lifeless dummy, Slappy had found himself staring at the long, black hair that framed a thin face as smooth as porcelain, the pretty pink lips that looked painted on, and those big, round eyes - gorgeous green eyes that were wide with apprehension. She could have been a doll if only life had shown her a little more favor.

The girl had said she was looking for her sisters, but Jimmy had not seen them. "I'd better find them. Sorry I bothered you," she had apologized.

"No problem," Jimmy had replied.

"No problem," Slappy had called after her - and he had meant it.

He had not known her name then, but he had known right there that this was the girl he could use - the girl he actually _wanted_ to use - for his purposes. He had ordered Jimmy to go after her, to find out where she lived. However, Jimmy had refused, babbling some nonsense about morality and protecting children. So, Slappy had had to teach him another lesson.

That time around, though, Jimmy had suddenly seemed to grow a backbone, blocking the blow. In the struggle that had followed, Jimmy had thrown him against the wall. A string of guttural animal screams had torn from the kid's throat, and - maybe it was some magic in the universe extracting its cosmic price - he had inadvertently formed a word he probably did not even know he was uttering.

That word.

In that moment the darkness had swirled around Slappy. He had lost his chance to be free. The next time he awoke, it could be in another part of the country, decades later, on the lap of some greasy preteen who made him say century-old wood-based puns, and his search for the perfect person to advance his plans would have to begin all over again.

...But then evil had smiled upon him, and he had awoken in the arms of the girl with the big green eyes - the girl who asked him to make her siblings suffer, the girl who made a big oaf eat a bowl of mud, the girl who had the cute mouth that could smile with mischief - oh, sweet evil, that mischief! He would have stolen her and had had the job done on the very first night, but he could not abandon that glimmer of corruption he saw festering inside her dreamboat eyes whenever he looked into her frustrated face. Years of repression and impotence had given her a burning thirst for vengeance, but now it needed to be nurtured. It may take some time - he could spare a month or two before acting - but it would be worth it to see the hatred and bile develop until her heart was a twisted, rotting cadaver of its former self.

Then they would _really_ have fun together.

His sharp ears suddenly picked up a new sound, drawing him out of his thoughts. He stopped in his tracks, listening for a moment. It sounded like soft footsteps, as if belonging to a child. He frowned. The twin twits were not due home from Stevie's for another hour. He immediately staggered his way to the pillow, managing to flop down a mere second before the bedroom door opened.

It only opened a crack at first - and then an inch - and then another. In his line of sight, he saw a tiny hand appear around the door, and a frizzy brown head peeked inside.

Mary-Ellen.

* * *

"He-e-ey, Zappy! Do you like to play cards?" Jillian asked enthusiastically, pulling out the Queen of Hearts from the deck with a flourish.

The sad clown gave an exaggerated sigh. "I guess so, Zippy," Harrison replied, slumping his huge shoulders. He so looked the part!

"What about you, kids?" she asked with a huge beam, spinning energetically to face the audience sitting on the floor before her. "Do you like to play cards?"

"No!"

It was Joslyn, the redhead birthday girl, who had answered. A few of the kids began to laugh around her.

Jillian fought to keep her smile. "But these are _magic_ cards!"

"Really, Zippy?" Harrison asked.

"Sure! Just watch!" she cried. The final version of the card act was sure to get some laughs from the grumpy audience - even if they were more interested in cake than clowns. Zippy would pretend that saying the magic words worked, tricking Zappy into looking silly by imitating her. However, then she would be able to squirt water without doing the silly dance, which would prompt the other to have a funny reaction. On and on the squirting would go until Zippy's water ran out. Then suddenly Zappy's cards would begin to work. Finally, Zippy got her big comeuppance when Zappy "conjured" a pitcher of water from the bag of tricks and dumped it on her head. Jillian was rather proud of the act; it seemed like the kind of hijinks that Daffy and Porky would have gotten into.

Jillian cleared her throat in an exaggerated manner, making sure all the attention was on her first, and then began to make several flourishes with her hands over the playing card. She did this for as long as she was sure the four-year-olds' attention spans would allow before she then turned her back to the audience and did a goofy, worm-like dance to hide the fact that she was hooking the card to the water tube. "And NOW the magic words!" she cried. "Hocus-pocus, flippity-flam, razamataz, and alaka- ** _ZAM_**!" Jillian pointed the Queen of Hearts right at Harrison and squeezed the pump in her costume, grinning as wide as her painted mouth could stretch as the water shot out...

The water... shot... out...

...Where was the water?

Instinctively, her hand squeezed again, harder. Nothing.

The kids began to squirm on the floor. A few girls began to make exaggerated sounds of boredom while some boys started to shove each other. Her very first audience, and she was already losing their attention.

"Did you fill the cards with water?" Harrison asked out of the corner of his mouth.

She looked at him sharply. "Me?" she hissed back. " _You_ were supposed to fill them!"

"No, _you_ were, Jillian."

"Is it time for cake _now_?" Joslyn whined.

"These clowns are dumb!" another kid declared.

"They stink."

"Give them a chance!" Mrs. Henly hushed the children.

Her stomach suddenly felt heavy. She fought to stand still as her knees began to tremble. She knew she was beginning to sweat - no doubt ruining her white makeup right there in front of everyone. "They _hate_ us!" she moaned to Harrison.

He gestured frantically to the bag. "Get the next trick! Hurry!"

Good idea. Jillian quickly fished out the pie, carefully removing the plastic wrap as best as she could in spite of her shaking hands. Somehow, she managed to carry it over to the nearby coffee table. "It isn't time for birthday cake," she said, trying to sound excited, "but who would like to try some birthday _pie_?"

"YAAAY!" the kids began to cheer. Some even started to clap their hands above their heads.

* * *

Mary-Ellen slowly crossed the carpeted floor and disappeared from Slappy's line of sight - then he felt the mattress shift as she climbed onto the bed next to him. She plopped herself on the edge, facing him, and he had an eyeful of her bright red cheeks, heart-shaped lips, and pug-like nose.

Man, she was ugly.

The doll waved her hand in front of his eyes, studying him intently. "Are you awake?" she asked.

Slappy remained still.

She tutted her tongue, her lips pursing. "Now, now. Don't be rude. I got all dolled up just for you, Slappy." She grabbed her pink skirt with both hands, twisting herself to show it off. "You like? Amanda may be a human, but at least she has taste. My absolute favorite is the pretty white number with the lace. Makes me think of a bride," she said with a dreamy sigh.

 _Bride of Frankenstein maybe_ , Slappy thought.

Mary-Ellen rested her chin against the heel of her plastic hand. "Still no response? Are you just playing dead, or did that dumb girl really not bring you to life? I might believe she managed to fire up enough brain cells for that little worm trick, but she's no mastermind. No, she could never be as smart you, could she, darling?"

Appealing to his ego? She must have thought he was pretty stupid if she expected him to fall for that trick.

The doll waited a few more minutes - before she reached out and smoothed down his wrinkled lapels. "You really must not be awake," she said softly, her face darkening. "Otherwise, you would never let that filthy little flesh girl take so many liberties without punishment. Perhaps it's better that you're asleep right now - but don't worry, darling. I've fixed her _real_ good." Her heart-shaped lips formed a wicked smile. "She definitely won't _see straight_ for awhile - if you catch my drift." She laughed then, a throaty chuckle oozing malice.

He had to hand it to her. If he did not have the sudden impulse to throttle her, he might have admired the evil cadence.

Her glass eyes looked him up and down. "Now, now. If you're awake, it's only polite to say something, sweetie. You are a guest here, but you're welcome to stay as long as you want. I could never have a quarrel with _you_ , my darling, but you could never convince me that you're just a lifeless husk. I saw you on the stage, remember? Everyone may look at the ventriloquist to see if his lips move, but Jimmy is the first who doesn't move his _throat_ when the dummy talks."

...That was a very good point.

She took his wooden hand gingerly into her own plastic one. "Besides, Jimmy O'James could never simulate your evil. Not _you_. You're one of a kind, aren't you, Slappy? Well, there was the redhead, but I know the puppet maker always liked you more. **_I_** certainly did."

What.

Her cruel eyes took on a look that resembled tenderness. "Don't recognize me, do you? Of course not. I was far too low to get the attention of the _masterpiece_ in those days, but even if I lived a thousand lifetimes, I would always recognize you, Slappy. Of course, you weren't called Slappy when he named you, now were you? Is there a story behind that? I would love to hear it. You're a very fascinating puppet, darling."

Slappy had too much skill at playing dead to so much as even twitch his mouth - but there was no way he was going to move a finger now. His mind began to race. He did not know how this was possible - perhaps that cosmic magic was extracting its price again - but if his creator had made her, then that meant he had designed her in the fashion of his other creations. She had a specific purpose and with it came a specific skill - maybe minor, maybe lethal - and he had no idea what it could do to him.

"I'm almost tempted to bring you to life now," she murmured, "just to see what your twisted mind would dream up to make that horrid girl suffer. Don't worry, though. It will be soon. With the two of us joined together, you'll get everything you ever wanted, my darling," she whispered. She leaned forward and pressed her plastic lips against his chipped mouth.

It took all of his will power not to hurl her off him.

She inched to the side of the bed and began to slide herself off - and then she stopped and turned again. Her violet eyes swept up and down, narrowed in suspicion. Suddenly, she reached into his jacket pocket - Slappy forced himself not to blink - and withdrew the slip of paper. "Just in case," she said sweetly before she leaned forward and whispered one word in his ear.

 _That_ word.

He tried to scream, but his body was not responding. He felt his limbs stiffen, and all feeling left him.

And then everything went black.

* * *

Jillian trudged up the front steps and onto the porch, finally getting shelter from the cold rain. She was completely drenched, and the white-and-red clown makeup was streaming down her face, no doubt ruined beyond recognition, but she did not care. She entered the house and kicked off her flooded sneakers. With little ceremony she dumped the bag of tricks and her wig beside them. What a waste of money.

Dripping a trail of droplets behind her, she started across the clean carpet to the stairs. She heard her mother turn down the television in the den. "Sweetie, how did the birthday party go?"

"Don't even go there," she growled and started up the steps, her eyes stinging with tears. Her mind kept replaying it over and over: the cold silence of the young audience, the failed routine that had forced her to grab the pie early, the two little volunteers that had been called to the front who then bent over to sniff the pie as she had instructed them - and then the screaming. The awful, frightened screaming.

"I'm gonna kill them," she whispered, "all three of them." Her whole body felt tight, and she trembled. This had gone too far.

She reached the second-floor landing, and her eyes fell on her bedroom door - and her blood ran cold.

Where was the paper?

Jillian started forward. Did she remember to put it up? In the excitement to head off to her first job, with the distraction of Harrison's funny makeup, did she forget this very important detail? She knocked softly. "Slappy?" she called softly.

No answer.

She turned the knob, cautiously poking her head in. "Slappy?" she tried again. He was on the bed, staring at the wall in front of him with his usual smile - his default smile. His book laid beside him on the table beside the bowl of trail mix. She closed the door softly. "Slappy?"

He did not move.

"Please, let this be a joke," she whispered and closed the distance between them. She grabbed his stiff shoulders and gave him a shake. And then another. His head rolled to the side - still grinning, still staring. Immediately, her hand flew to his jacket pocket - and then to the other one - and then the first one again.

Empty. Both empty.

The yellow paper was gone.

Jillian did not even think. She whirled around, tore the door open, and flew down the hall to the twins' bedroom.

She threw open the door, sending it slamming into the wall as she shot in. Right in the middle of the sea of toys, Mary-Ellen stared calmly back at her, sitting in her wicker chair like a smug queen.

A scream tore from Jillian's throat, and she started for the doll. She grabbed Mary-Ellen by the leg and hurled her into the closet, slamming the door. She hauled one of the overflowing toy bins in front, locking her in.

She began the frantic search. Not in this toy bin. Not in that one. Where? Where? She checked under the bed, hauled books off the shelves, checked in the teapots and pencil cases - was it even in the room? Please, it had to be nearby! It just _had_ to!

She stopped, turning her head. Was it in the closet with Mary-Ellen? She started for the door, already bracing herself for a surprise attack - but wait, wait, there was still other places to check first. She would take this room apart if she had to first, and - and - and if she did not find it, she would _make_ Mary-Ellen tell her, _make_ her give it up. Somehow.

She hauled up Katie's mattress, sending the bedding tumbling to the floor - nope. She lifted Amanda's mattress - and let out a cry of joy. There!

She turned on her heel and zipped back to her bedroom. She slammed the door behind her. He was on his side now - in her mad dash she must have knocked him over by accident. " _Karru marri..."_ she began before she even reached the bed, "... _odonna loma molonu karrano!"_

She immediately saw his eyes blink.

"Slappy?" she whispered, climbing onto the bed beside him.

He slowly raised his head, propping himself on his elbow. He glanced around, a look of surprise on his painted visage - and stopped, his brow crinkling. "Did a witch throw up on your face?" he winced.

Jillian broke into a hysterical laugh. "You _are_ okay!" she cried and promptly pulled him into a tight hug.

His skinny body stiffened, and she heard him suck in a sharp breath. Then... slowly... his arms came up and wrapped around her.

"Knew it was just a matter of time," he teased in her ear, but his raspy voice sounded just a little… awkward, as if he were just giving a default joke and really did not know how to respond.

She gave him a small squeeze. "I thought you were gone," she whispered. Her voice sounded hoarse.

He suddenly pushed himself back, his blue eyes searching her face. "You woke me up," he said at last. He sounded amazed.

She wiped away a white smudge of makeup left on his brown head. "Of course. You're my friend."

An odd look crossed his face. "Not many kids would do that."

"Well, I'm not many kids," she said firmly.

He was silent for a moment, his big eyes locked on her face as if transfixed. At any other time it might have sent a series of chills through her body, but for now, right now, she did not mind.

"No, you're not," he said at last. His old smile appeared. "You really are a special girl, Jillian." She finally released him, and he straightened his jacket, dusting off the sleeve. "By the way, do we have any disinfectant? I got trash on my mouth."

"Slappy, what happened?"

His eyes grew cold. "It was Mary-Ellen."

"I know," she replied, holding up the yellowed paper. "I found this in the girl's room. Did she use this to put you to sleep?"

His eyes grew serious. "Did she see you take it?" he demanded.

"No, I threw her in the closet first."

He pushed himself to his feet and began to pace the bed. "Well, the jig is up. She put me to sleep - just to 'make sure' - and then you come in screaming as soon as you get home. Not good, kid."

Jillian frowned. "Did you _want_ me to not wake you?"

His teetering gait slowed to a stop. "No," he said softly. He turned, and his big eyes regarded her with that transfixed look again. "Thank you, Jillian," he said with a tone she had never heard him use before - and then it dawned on her: it was the first time he had thanked her for anything. Suddenly, he squinted at her. "So, what happened to you?" he asked, his raspy voice going back to normal as he gestured towards her drenched costume.

The events of the afternoon came rushing back to her. "Oh, Slappy, it was just _awful,_ " she moaned as her vision blurred. "We got the act started, but we goofed up the card routine - so, we skipped ahead to the pie act. So then, I got two kids to come up to sniff the pie, but Harrison accidentally squeezed the pump too soon, and they got hit." Her voice was becoming hoarser. "They started crying and screaming, and their eyes were burning - because it wasn't whip cream! It was _soap_ , Slappy! The girls put _soap_ in the pie!" It was too much for her. "I never want to be a clown again!" She buried her face into her arms, not caring if her ruined make-up left a smudge on her clean comforter as sobs began to rack her body.

Rage, misery, and shame tore through her like ravaging wolves, fighting for dominance. She had been stupid not to think the girls would have done something to mess up her first job, and it was her own fault for not double checking everything - she could not even make sure there was water in her water pump, let alone make sure her act was not sabotaged. Now, Mrs. Henly thought she had been incompetent and would tell all the other parents that she had endangered two preschoolers, and if those kids were severely hurt, everyone would blame her - and she could still hear the screams of the little boy and girl, ringing over and over in her head as they clawed at their stinging eyes.

It was not until her sobs began to subside that a wooden hand gripped her shoulder. She felt him drop to his knees, and she did not even flinch as she felt him lean over her, pressing his head against her ear. "This isn't the time for tears, Jillian," he growled. "Crying is a weakness you can do without."

She only sniffed.

After a moment, his other hand laid against her head and began to stroke her now messy hair. "Perhaps you weren't meant to be a clown," he said softly. "Perhaps you were meant for bigger things. _Higher_ things." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "A precious beast like you could have the world - if you play your cards right."

She uttered a shaky sigh. "That's not even the worse part," she mumbled back, watching as a tear rolled down her smudged nose and joined the other droplets on the blue fabric. "I don't even know if those kids are going to be alright. Mrs. Henly shoved us out the door without even paying us." She clenched her fists. She had an image of her sisters and that doll - no, that piece of _trash_ \- grabbing the pie, dumping the whip cream down the sink, filling it with foamy soap from the bathroom while they giggled like idiots - and she wanted to pound their faces in. "They went too far," she growled. "Way too far."

His raspy voice whispered, "So, tell me what me you're going to do about it, Jillian."

The tears stopped. She raised her head and met his steely eyes.

"Make them pay," she said at last. "Harrison and I were supposed to get the pie in the face. They _wanted_ to hurt us." She gritted her teeth. "You were right. One prank goes wrong, and you can lose everything." Her hands were tight balls now. "We gotta stop them for good, Slappy. It has to _hurt_."

A fierce grin split his face. "How much?" His cold eyes blazed now with excitement as his grip on her shoulder tightened. "How much do you want them to suffer? How much do they gotta hurt?"

She finally sat up. "Enough."

"Consider it done." He then leaned back, his painted mouth in a smirk. "Now, wash your face, girl. Mary-Ellen would use you for an ego boost."

* * *

The cold rain continued the rest of the afternoon - the whole weekend actually - but it was just as well. Since Mrs. Henly had not paid for the clown act, they could not even go down to the store to buy Oreos and toothpaste - though Jillian felt they were beyond Oreos now. Slappy, on the other hand, encouraged her to see it as frosting on the cake - "Toothpaste frosting!" he snickered.

Jillian and Slappy played a few rounds of checkers, listening to Dad's Tom Lehrer tapes (Slappy liked the song "Poisoning Pigeons in the Park" the best), which helped her get her mind off the ruined party - a little. The circus posters were all brought down and stuffed into the closet. The cream walls looked bare now, but she tried not to notice. Jillian pulled Petey out of his glass cage, and the lizard spent the whole time napping in her lap. It was nice to stroke his scaly back, and as she laid her hand against his little belly, rising and falling with breath, she could feel some of the negativity melt away, bit by bit. Just a smidgen, anyway. By evening, her mood had started to pick up, and she actually laughed when she caught Slappy cheating. He was such a little kid sometimes.

"There's something I wanted to ask you, Slappy," she said after awhile.

"You can ask me anything, Jillian," he said pleasantly.

"Harrison had an idea today - "

"That must have hurt."

" - and he thinks we should do a ventriloquism act for the next party, but he wants to get two dummies. Would you be still up to it?"

He pat her hand. "I knew you'd come around eventually."

"Well, you can't be worse than soap pies," she sighed. "Harrison's going to check the magic store to see if he can get a second dummy. He thinks two dummies will be funnier than one."

"Oh, he'll go _far_ in life," Slappy said dryly. The puppet shrugged a wooden shoulder. "Try a pawn shop," he suggested. "I've been in more than my fair share - or so they tell me." He suddenly tilted his head to the side. "Are you going to tell your parents what the girls did?"

"No," she said at last. "Mrs. Henly is going to call Mom anyway, and she'll just ground them for a week or something. That's not enough. Whatever _you_ come up with will probably be ten times worse."

"Aw, shucks," he grinned, batting his eyes. "I love it when you turn on the sweet talk."

"Do you have any ideas yet?"

"When it comes to mischief and mayhem? When do I ever _not_ have ideas?" he quipped. "You know, I'm not just a mastermind, Jillian - I'm a _masterpiece_."

"Bah dum tish."

He steepled his wooden fingers. "Now, then, what makes your sisters cry?"

She shrugged. "Amanda will tear up over anything, but Katie never cries. She can skin her knee, and you won't even see a drop."

"Goody. I like a challenge," Slappy chuckled darkly before he hopped his piece over two of her own. "King me!"

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Advice is appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

Jillian made sure to take any chance to be extra nice to the girls all that gray Sunday. When Amanda wanted to use the television to watch _The Nutcracker Prince_ , Jillian gave up control of the VCR and did not once mention that it was not even Halloween yet. When she caught Katie sneaking into her room, claiming she wanted to borrow markers to draw a picture for school, Jillian allowed her to take them without even warning her not to let them dry out. When they wanted to play board games in the den before supper, Jillian helped them keep track of the _Clue_ cards and did not roll her eyes when they argued over how many spaces the kings in checkers could actually move.

After dinner, Mom took her aside. "I'm very proud of you, Jillian. I'm glad you're making the effort to get along with them." She laid a hand on Jillian's thin shoulder, her eyes warm. "I used to fight with your aunts a lot too. We made up by the time I was in college, but we could have had so much more happy times together if we had done it sooner. I don't want you to miss out on that."

"Yes, Mom," Jillian replied with her sweetest smile.

Mom suddenly snapped a manicured hand. "Oh, by the way, Mrs. Simkin called. Her basement got flooded, so she can't have the party at her house."

"Is she going to cancel?" she asked quickly. Two ruined jobs in two days?

"Well, she was, but I offered to let her use our basement. She'll pay you extra if you help set up birthday decorations. It's the same day as Mrs. Smith's party next door. I'll pop in for a few minutes to make an appearance and come back to help you, but can you and Harrison be grown-ups and supervise the party for a little while?"

Jillian nodded. "Sure." How hard could that be?

"Oh, and your sisters are invited to Eddie's party too."

She had to fight hard not to make her mouth twitch. "They don't even go to Eddie's school." Since Eddie was born so late in the year, he was even a grade below them.

"No, but Mrs. Simkin wanted to be polite since this is their home too." Mom gave her cheek a pat. "Don't worry. If the girls start acting out, they immediately go to their room. I promise."

"Sure, Mom."

Her mother gave her an empathetic look. "I know it's frustrating having two six-year-old twins for sisters, but one day you'll understand just how important they are to your life."

"Of course, Mom," she said sweetly and headed up the stairs.

 _Of course, you realize this means war._

* * *

As soon as Jillian heard the girls head down the stairs, chatting with Mary-Ellen about watching cartoons, she carefully grabbed Slappy, putting their checkers rematch on hold, and crept down the hall with him to the abandoned room. The only sound to be heard was the pattering of rain outside the darken window - and that just added to the thrill.

"'Operation: Sniffles' is a go!" the dummy snickered as she set him on the white carpet. He had napped all morning and afternoon in his suitcase on the top shelf of her closet while she had played with the twins (a trick dolls often used to get through long stretches, he claimed), and now he was obviously eager for a chance to stretch his legs - metaphorically and literally. "Bring out the specimen," he commanded.

Jillian withdrew the apple she had smuggled upstairs. She took a few big bites out of it - as if someone had started to enjoy a snack but then grew bored with it - before placing it under Katie's bed, just as he instructed.

He cracked his fingers - Jillian knew better than to ask how it was possible - and rolled his shoulders. "Okay, dreamy eyes, watch the master at work."

Jillian knelt down beside him and studied him carefully, not wanting to miss a second. Slappy did not do magic that often - he said his skills were very limited - but it was still _real_ magic, and it was amazing that she got to witness it firsthand. The puppet closed his wooden eyes, holding his hand out toward the concealed apple. His little-boy face scrunched up into a expression of pure focus, and his slender body began to shake as if electricity were pulsing through him...

Suddenly, he turned his head to face her - literally. "Shouldn't you be standing look-out?" he teased, his sliding chin tapping his checkered shoulder as he talked.

She suppressed the sudden shiver, reminding herself that he must not know how creepy that looked. Probably. "I guess," she said reluctantly and started to move to the door, but he grabbed her hand, stopping her.

"No, no. I get it. Can't take your eyes off me. I don't blame you a lick for _that_."

"Oh, yeah right," she snorted, tossing her head.

"Keep tellin' yourself that, doll face," he replied and held up his little hands again, facing forward.

His hard eyes focused on the apple, and his red smirk was replaced with a stoic line as he adjusted his footing, planting himself firmly. His fingers flexed. His jaw tightened, causing a few clicks... "But, you know," he suddenly said, turning again - fortunately with the rest of his body this time, "I'm doing all this for you. You could afford to be a little nicer to me, Jillian," he winked - but it was not in his usual squirm-inducing way.

...And she did not know how she felt about that.

Jillian shook the thought off. "C'mon, let's get this over with," she insisted. "They could be back any moment."

"My, my, aren't we hasty?" he giggled. Up came the arms again...

...And down they went.

"Did we leave the water running?" he asked innocently.

"Slappy!" she cried, causing him to laugh. Time limit or not, he obviously enjoyed having an audience - a fact she had known already - but now, as she surveyed his mischievous smile, there seemed to be something else.

She could not put her finger on it, but there had been a definite change in the way he regarded her since the incident the day before. She knew that he must be glad to have been rescued from a cruel fate - even if he had not thanked her verbally, it was obvious that he valued a second chance at life. However, _technically_ she had already saved him from eternal slumber the first time she had woken him, and he had never shown her a smidgen of gratitude for it. Now, it was as if he enjoyed her presence beyond just having someone to look impressed when he bragged about his superior intellect or to do a few things to make him comfortable. Even the way he teased her had changed. He still sneered and made cracks about her intelligence, but now it felt more like that was just his natural language, rather than outright belittlement.

Slappy rolled his shoulders again. "Okay, okay, for real this time," he promised and raised his hands again, his eyes narrowing on the barely-eaten apple - and then he folded his arms, tapping his chin. "But before we begin, why don't we take a moment to look at other sources of potential?" he grinned.

"You're doing this just to annoy me, aren't you?"

He winked. "You're cute when you pout." His little arm swept the room. "But consider the possibilities, my friend. Once we get this snowball rolling, Raggedy Ann's ugly sister won't let us get another chance to come in here unsupervised. So, how can we make sure she'll want to leave the room in the future? There's a lot of things she can amuse herself with in here, so how can we make her so bored that she'll be _begging_ the twits to take her out? What can we do to that T.V.? What can we do to those coloring books? And I think that copy of _The Count of Monte Cristo_ is a bit thick for two six-year-olds," he added, nodding to the bookcase.

Jillian frowned, spotting the row of paperbacks. "Those are Dad's books."

His blue eyes gleamed. "Oooh, even better!"

* * *

"Well, that was fun," Slappy commented, dusting his hands. "And now for the keystone to bring it all together."

"That was awesome," she grinned, setting him on the bed while her other arm held onto Dad's books. "Extremely gross, but awesome."

"I'm a puppet of many talents, my sweet," he purred. "Now, take those downstairs, and then work your magic. You ready?"

She patted her pocket and the little bulge inside. "Roger."

"Name's Slappy, actually."

"Guess I walked into that one," she cracked before she stepped outside the door with the books - and made sure to put the paper in the door. She turned toward the stairs just as the bathroom doorknob click. The door swung open, and her father's large frame appeared.

Jillian quickly hugged the paperbacks tighter, hiding their spines against her arm. "Hi, Dad," she grinned, trying not to gulp.

"Hey, Noodle," he greeted, closing the distance between them to ruffle her hair. "Mom told me how nice you were to the girls today. I'm very proud of you."

"Thanks, Dad," she replied, doing her best to keep her smile in place. _Stay natural. Stay natural._

"I'm glad you're taking some affirmative action about this," he continued. "I know it's tough being the oldest, but even the little things you do have a big impact on them." He gave her half ponytail an affectionate tug and fortunately headed into his bedroom then, shutting the door behind him.

Jillian let out a sigh of relief, feeling her heart pound in her chest. That was too close.

She was about to go downstairs, but she happened to glance into the bathroom - and saw a very familiar object resting on the counter.

Well, well, well...

* * *

Jillian took a deep breath. _Now, or never._ She stepped into the den where Mom was working on her scrap book.

"Mom, have you seen my math homework?"

Her mother shook her head. "No. Did you leave it down here?"

Jillian exhaled, holding up her hands. "I left it on my desk when I came down to do my chores, but now it's gone," she insisted. "And it's due _tomorrow_."

"Maybe you just misplaced it," Mom suggested.

"I looked _everywhere_ in my room - twice! Can you help me look downstairs?" _Sell it. Sell it._

Mom glanced at her scrapbook supplies - and reluctantly nodded. "Sure, sweetie." She got to her feet. "Let's retrace your steps. Where were you today?"

"I was in the basement earlier, vacuuming, and in the kitchen," Jillian said, pretending to look behind the side tables. She waited until her mother stepped into the kitchen to investigate before she quietly turned and headed into the living room, dropping to her knees beside the couch. She fished out a ball of crinkled paper from her pocket. A big chunk from the top had been torn off and disposed of quietly earlier. She smoothed the page out and checked over her shoulder. No one in sight. She could hear her mother moving around in the kitchen. She cleared her throat and began to scream.

"Mom! I found it under the couch!" she shrieked. "Come look at it!"

* * *

Of course, the girls denied everything, which did not please Mom in the slightest. She promised to write Jillian a note for her teacher explaining the situation and to ask for a chance to redo the assignment. She then said she was very disappointed in the twins and sent them both to bed early.

That was only phase one of Slappy's plan.

Of course, if Mom had been disappointed before, she was absolutely _livid_ the next morning when Jillian came down to get ready for school and started screaming - because her sneakers were filled with white gobs of pudding. Upon further inspection, it turned out that three of the six vanilla pudding cups were missing from the fridge.

Since neither one of the twins would confess to the crime, Mom marched them both upstairs to get their piggy banks - but then she spotted an ant on the windowsill. Then, upon closer inspection, she found a line of them marching along the wall and under Katie's bed - where they were feasting on a rotten, unfinished apple that looked like it had been there for months.

It was almost too much for Mom. She screamed for Dad to come upstairs to see the sight, and she ordered the girls to start counting out the money they owed for the pudding - but Amanda's piggy bank was a lot lighter than it had been the last time she had held it. So, Mom made Katie open hers in front of Dad - and both freaked out when they saw what came tumbling out.

* * *

"Is she crying yet?" Jillian heard the raspy voice ask on the other side of the cracked door. She almost did not hear him over the sound of the washing machine - Mom had already called the school to tell them that Jillian would be late to wait for her shoes to dry.

"Of course not. It'll take more than _that_ ," she replied out of the corner of her mouth.

"Excellent. It wouldn't be fun if it ended too soon," the dummy replied gleefully, and she heard him rub his wooden palms together. "You screamed perfectly by the way," he added. "I _almost_ believed you were really surprised there, Cinderella."

"I try," she replied, dusting off her fingernails, "but next time, _you_ can step in pudding." He snickered. She turned her attention back to the twins' room. From here she could see the backs of her parents.

Tears or no tears, this was remarkably satisfying.

"No T.V. for a month, Katie," Mom was saying, and Jillian saw her turn to Dad. "Richard, take their set to the basement."

"But _I'm_ not in trouble!" Amanda whined, seeming to have forgotten the pudding-cup issue.

"That's just how it is," Dad replied tightly. "See what happens when you act naughty, Katie?" he added sternly. "When you do bad things, other people suffer for _your_ actions."

"This goes beyond just acting naughty," Mom said sharply. "That was _stealing_ , Katie. Why would you ever think taking a fifty-dollar bill from your father's wallet was a good idea?"

Jillian heard Slappy suddenly start, his wooden body rattling, and she looked down to see wonder on his wooden countenance. His malleable red lips pursed together, and he let out a long whistle. "You did _that_?" he whispered.

Jillian gave a careless shrug, smiling. "Well, I saw Dad's wallet on the bathroom counter and thought, 'Why not?' I told you I'm good at improv," she reminded him.

His face morphed into a look of admiration. "That's absolutely abominable," he breathed, and he covered his chest with a dreamy sigh. "Be still my nonexistent heart."

* * *

"I didn't put it in there," Katie insisted yet again, but Mom and Dad would hear none of it - not fair at all! Katie fumed under their angry glares as they began to lecture her on stealing and telling the truth, but how could she make them see that she had done nothing wrong? She would never steal from Amanda - or Dad - but there was no way she could prove it. Mom would never believe that someone might frame her - anymore than she would believe there were two living dolls inside the house.

"She didn't do it!" Amanda said defensively, taking her hand. "Mary-Ellen says so too! She says Jillian did it!"

Dad frowned. "Now, why would Jillian do something like that?"

"To get us in trouble!" Katie cried.

Mom's eyes grew cold. "You should be ashamed of yourselves. Your sister would never do that to you girls. She knows better - and she loves you."

 _Yeah, right_. Katie glanced at Mary-Ellen. _Please, do something_ , she silently begged her - not that she could hear her thoughts.

But she could certainly guess them.

Be still, the doll replied - and Katie heard her laugh.

"Katie," Dad said, "if you tell us the truth, we'll be a lot more lenient than if we catch you in a lie. So, I'm giving you one more chance. Why did you take the money from my wallet?"

"I _didn't_!" Katie pouted. "Why can't you _believe_ me?"

Dad's eyes grew dark. He did not have the Look that Mom used, but when he frowned like that, it always meant business. "I've very disappointed in you, Katrina Rose." Without another word, he strode to the television and yanked the plug out, hauling the entire set out and placing it on the floor. He then went down on one knee to grab the VCR next, lifting it onto his bent leg, but there came a sudden rattle. He squinted at it. "Sounds like there's a tape in here." He set it back down and pressed the eject button.

The machine immediately whined, and out popped a video tape with a white-label which had what looked like Mom's handwriting: _Jillian - 1993_.

"Why were you watching Jillian's video?" Dad demanded. His green eyes suddenly became hard again, and he pushed the tape back in. He returned the television to its proper place, hooking the colored wires back up. The VCR meanwhile had already swallowed the tape and had automatically started to play the video before the television was even turned on. Instead of a home video of Jillian, the screen became alive with color and started to play the theme music of -

* * *

" _THE MAGIC SCHOOL BUS_?" Dad bellowed. "YOU TOOK OUR FAMILY MOVIE TO RECORD A _CARTOON_ SHOW?"

Jillian froze, staring down the hall in shock - but a snicker snapped her out of it just as quickly. Without another word, she stepped inside her bedroom, grabbing the dummy roughly by the shoulder, and closed the door behind her. "Explain," she demanded through her teeth.

"You didn't say 'please'," he sniffed, dusting off his wrinkled sleeve.

Jillian narrowed her eyes. "Slappy, what did you do?"

He smirked. "I might have had the beanbag dolls do a little extra dirty work the same day they handled the worms for us," he replied. "Since they were already alive for all those hours beforehand. I was saving that little surprise for just the right moment."

She opened her mouth - and promptly exhaled. She rubbed her temples, clenching her jaw. "I know you have a _weird_ way of thinking about things, so I'm gonna give you a chance to explain just _why_ you thought recording over my family's home movies could be a _good_ idea in this lifetime."

He gave a dry chuckle, almost like a cough, and folded his little arms. "Well, if you're gonna treat me like that, maybe I _shouldn't_ have recorded over your seventh birthday party. And here **_I_** was trying to be nice."

Jillian's hands immediately dropped to her sides. "...Really?" she asked hopefully, searching his face to see if it was a joke.

"Really, Jillian." He shook his head, tutting his nonexistent tongue. "After all we've been through, can't you trust me yet?"

Jillian let out a laugh of relief. It had been five years, and her cousins still teased her about that party. Her parents would just laugh and joke about showing it to her future boyfriends and in-laws and would tell her not to take it so seriously - even though just the thought of that day made her cheeks burn. She had often considered "misplacing" the tape in the past, but she never had the guts to destroy it herself, too afraid of getting in trouble. That little dummy really _was_ a lifesaver. "You're the best!" she cried.

"Just figuring that out now?" he cracked. His round blue eyes glittered. "Your dad might not care about you enough to destroy it when you ask, but, luckily, you got Slappy looking out for ya - and two birds with one stone," he added with a smug look.

She beamed at him. "I owe you big!"

"Don't I know it." His grin stretched. "This is only the beginning, Noodle."

That made her stop, all sense of merriment evaporating in a puff. "Uh, Slappy?"

He tilted his head. "Yes, doll?"

She looked him over carefully, very aware that her face was beginning to heat. "You didn't… _watch_ the tape, did you?"

The tiny wooden hands flew to his chest, a shocked look on his sculpted face. "Now, would I do a thing like that to my favorite girl?" he asked, his wide, blue eyes brimming with innocence - a little _too_ much innocence.

* * *

As soon as Katie and Amanda got home from school, Mom sent them both to their room - because she had discovered the pages of some of Dad's books had been cut up with scissors, the very books Mary-Ellen liked so much. Katie was too mad to do more than stomp up the stairs.

"It's not fair!" she cried to the doll as she stormed in, Amanda on her heels. "Jillian is making us look bad, and Mom won't believe we didn't do it!" Mom said no more allowance for a month, and they were not allowed to go to any friend's house or go to the park - or even go to Abby's birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese in two weeks! Stupid big sister!

Mary-Ellen told her to be calm - and a smirk played in Katie's mind.

"How can you be happy, Mary-Ellen?" she demanded. "Mom might put you in the closet again!"

Katie heard the doll give an audible snort, though her plastic face remained motionless. Mary-Ellen was not afraid of Mom. If anything, the doll said, she was glad that this had happened. That was why she allowed the girls to take her downstairs yesterday.

Amanda narrowed her eyes. "Wait. You _wanted_ Jillian to come into our room?"

Jillian and _Slappy_ , Mary-Ellen corrected, and yes, she had wanted them to sneak in - just to see what they'd do - and now she had.

"Why? Jillian keeps getting us in trouble," Amanda said somberly.

Mary-Ellen chuckled darkly and asked if she honestly thought Jillian was smart enough to do anything as wicked as stuffing Dad's money into Katie's bank. No, the doll was sure Slappy was pulling the strings and spreading the misery - she said dreamily.

"He's not very nice, is he?" Amanda shuddered.

Of course not, Mary-Ellen grinned.

Katie did not know what bothered her more: that Slappy was doing all those mean things to them or that the doll seemed impressed. "What are we gonna _do_ , Mary-Ellen?"

Mary-Ellen laughed and told her not to worry. Wasn't Jillian supposed to babysit tonight?

"Yeah," Katie replied. "So?"

A mysterious smile appeared in Katie's mind. And wasn't Jillian supposed to help Mom make dinner when she got home?

"I guess," Katie shrugged. "But I'm not gonna eat it. Jillian will probably ruin _that_ too," she added nastily.

Mary-Ellen chuckled again - and then a new image appeared in Katie's mind.

Her mouth dropped open. "W-We can't do that!" she squeaked. "Someone might get hurt!"

"Please, not that!" Amanda begged.

Katie felt the doll frown. In an instant the scary image melted away and was replaced by an even more horrible one - the one Mary-Ellen always showed them when they got out of line - but Katie shook her head. "We could really hurt someone, Mary-Ellen! Please, let's do something else! Pretty please?" She clasped her hands together, looking at her still face imploringly.

Mary-Ellen stared at her for a long moment - long enough for Katie to start to fidget under the motionless violet eyes. Finally, the image changed.

This time it included their parents.

Katie shuddered. "Alright," she mumbled, holding up her hands in defeat. "Okay, we'll do it."

Mary-Ellen said she was a very good girl, and Katie tried not to let her fear - or her distaste - show on her face.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Advice is appreciated.

Yeah, in the book the parents of the birthday guests show that typical _Goosebumps_ adult apathy and actually do go next door for their own party while Jillian and Harrison supervise a bunch of six-year-olds in a basement with an uncovered table saw (plot convenience!) While I'm not strictly following the book's story, I do like to nod to the canon every now and then, like the girls' extensive beanbag-doll collection from Chapter 22, Mr. Zinman's air horn from Chapter 14, and the original dialogue from the clown act. (In any case, Mrs. Zinman is just planning to "make an appearance" here rather than leave the kids alone the whole time.)


	7. Chapter 7

As soon as Jillian stepped through the front door, Mom's voice called from the kitchen, "Jillian, is that you? Wash up and help me with dinner!"

"One second!" she replied. "I wanna drop my backpack off in my room."

She rushed up the stairs two at a time - felt a twinge of relief when she saw the paper still in the door - and slung her heavy backpack onto her bed. It was still weird walking into a room with yawning bare spaces on the walls, but she hardly noticed it now as she dragged her desk chair to the closet door. She climbed up and rapped on the suitcase on the top shelf. _Shave and a haircut…_

Two knocks replied. The lid opened, and the big round eyes appeared. "Well, aren't you a pleasant sight to wake up to," the wooden face grinned.

She leaned her arms against the shelf, a smirk playing on her own. "So-o-o-o, I have to babysit tonight. What can we get up to?"

"Anything you want, doll," he giggled and allowed himself to be pulled into her arms.

She hopped off the chair and hoisted him up so that his stiff arm could hang comfortably over her shoulder. It was funny how commonplace it felt to carry him around now - or how glad she was to hold him, knowing he was safe. It had been impossible to concentrate at school the whole day; again and again she had glanced at the clock, wondering if Mary-Ellen might have done something to him... She gave him a quick, friendly squeeze, dropped a small treat for Petey, and set up the paper again before she hurried downstairs.

Dad was still in the bathroom showering, but Mom was dolled up and obviously impatient to head out the door. She was in the middle of throwing together a quick salad when Jillian came into the kitchen, and she made a face when her eyes fell upon her daughter's cargo. "Really, Jillian, do you _have_ to have that dummy down here?"

"He likes to know what's going on in the house," Jillian replied matter-of-factly as she propped the puppet in the nearest wooden chair - it was getting easier to tell those parts of the truth which she knew no one would believe. "You let Mary-Ellen sit at the dinner table."

"That's different, you know."

Jillian shrugged, keeping her face straight. "Well, Katie and Amanda keep trying to take Slappy into their room, so I'm keeping an eye on him for Harrison."

Mom pointed to the stove, motioning for Jillian to start stirring the contents in the big silver pot, and asked, "Well, why doesn't Harrison just keep his toy at his house?"

"Because he's waiting for Dad to fix him," Jillian reminded her, grabbing the big cooking spoon and starting on the angel-hair pasta, "and Dad's still working on the table."

"Yes, but why does it have to stay _here_?" Mom pressed. "Your father won't be finished for another month at least. Harrison can keep his property at his own home until then."

Jillian turned in alarm. "Slappy's not hurting anyone," she said quickly. "Right now. Besides, I need him for the party."

Mom shook her head, returning to the salad. "Now, the spaghetti is almost ready. The sauce just needs to be heated, and I have a loaf garlic bread for you to toast in the oven. Dad and I won't be gone long, but you need to make sure the girls take their bath before bed. If they give you _any_ trouble tonight, let me know, and they're grounded for life."

Jillian had to bite her cheek to contain the smile that threatened to spread. "Yes, Mom."

This should be fun.

Mom set the salad bowl to the side and started laying out plates in the dining room for the three girls before she went back upstairs to check on Dad. Jillian waited until the footsteps faded before she turned to the slumped puppet. "I think this tomato sauce could use a little kick. Like Tabasco. What do you think?"

He raised his head. "Not bad, but I think we can do better," he smirked.

* * *

She moved Slappy to the counter so that they could talk while she cooked - and gathered supplies. She was not going to risk doing anything until Mom and Dad were out the door, but it did not hurt to be prepared - especially when the items in question looked so innocent by themselves.

"Now, make sure you already put some leftovers in the refrigerator, unaltered," Slappy instructed. "Because your sisters _will_ tell your parents how horrible it's gonna taste, but Mommy and Daddy will have something they can see and taste for themselves. So, who will they believe then?"

"Got it," she nodded and grabbed a Tupperware tub from the cabinet. "It's a good thing you're so sneaky. I would've never thought of that."

"Talent, m'dear," he replied, dusting his fingertips. Suddenly, his eyes changed. "By the way, do your sisters like baths? Or would they prefer to take a shower if it means getting out quicker?"

She glanced at him, wondering where this was headed. "It depends on the day," she replied, "and whether they're trying to stall and not go to bed."

"Okay, second question, are there any hard candies around the house? Or, better yet, chicken bouillon?"

She started giggling. "Don't tell me…"

"Okay, I won't," he quipped.

To think she used to struggle to find just one perfect revenge! Slappy just doled out tricks left and right like he was throwing candy in a parade. "Where do you come _up_ with these ideas, Slappy?"

He gave a small bow. "I'm an artist. It's how I express myself," he said with a smug smile. "But I'll admit I've never had an accomplice tall enough to pull that trick before, so shake a leg, sister."

She held up the ladle. "Then can you keep an eye on this for me?"

He gave her a look. "Oh, _brilliant_ , Jillian. Ask the _wooden_ puppet to get close to the gas stove." He shuddered, a look of genuine discomfort on his face as he shot a glance at the active burner and its blue flames.

That made her pause. "You know, Slappy," she said carefully, "Mom does have a point. You would be a lot safer over at Harrison's house."

He started to make gagging sounds - which sounded extra strange in his raspy voice.

"C'mon, you might like it," she encouraged. "Mrs. Cohen works two jobs, and Harrison's usually on his grandma's half of the duplex when he's home, so you'd have the place to yourself. You could move around during the day, watch T.V., get a snack..." _And Mary-Ellen won't put you to sleep ever again_ , she added silently.

His round eyes locked on hers. " _You're_ the one who woke me up, Jillian," he said. "Not Harrison. And even if he had, I'd still prefer you."

She averted her gaze, suddenly finding the bubbling pot very fascinating.

Finally, the noodles were soft enough. She turned off the stove - to the doll's obvious relief - and fished out the strainer. "I've been thinking, Slappy," she said as she poured the boiling water and clumps of spaghetti into the silver bowl. "Can't we just get rid of Mary-Ellen? Like, lock her up in a suitcase and dump her on the other side of town?"

Slappy shook his head. "If I know anything about doll magic - and, what ya know, I do - the twerps probably brought her to life, so she's connected to one of them."

Jillian frowned, quickly setting the pot on a cool burner. "So? What does that have to do with locking her up?"

He steepled his fingers. "Well, us dolls don't give up our territory that easily, sweetheart," he replied, looking her right in the eye. "Remember my brother, Woody? The evil guy? My old humans, the Powell sisters, tried to get rid of him. Stuffed him in a suitcase and buried him alive." He shuddered a little. "Guy still came back."

 _Buried him ALIVE?_ She stared at his little face, clouded now with discomfort. "Why? How could he come back?"

He gave her a condescending look. "Magic, _obviously_ , dummy - that, and Kris Powell brought him to life," he added. "He would always be able to find her, no matter where she tossed him or how far she ran. They were bonded for life - at least until the idiot got himself a makeover from a steamroller."

Jillian felt her jaw drop. "A steamroller?!" she cried, staring.

He nodded. "That's what I said."

"A **_steam_** roller?!"

"No kill like overkill," he quipped and began to hum, " _Oh, a peanut sat on a railway track. His heart was all in a flutter. Around the bend came the Number Ten and - ohhh, peanut butter!_ "

Jillian winced. "That's creepy."

He gave her a half-smile. "You don't get out much, do you, kiddo? Don't worry. We'll fix that," he said, taking her hand and giving it a pat. "Anyway, my point is: when a connection between a doll and human is made, it's very, _very_ hard to break. Only death can sever it."

"And that's _really_ creepy."

"I find it quite enjoyable actually," he replied and gave her hand a light squeeze. "Now, are you going to set up the shower for the girls, or do I have to get myself a stepladder?"

* * *

Mom always bought bags of assorted candies for the little dish in the living room whenever she entertained the clients and coworkers Dad brought home, and she kept them on the top shelf of the pantry whenever not in use. Jillian and the twins were never allowed to touch the sweets without permission, but, fortunately, Dad had had a visit a few weeks ago, and there was still an opened bag in the pantry. Surely, no one would notice if a small handful went missing.

Armed with the tiny weapons stuffed inside her sweater pocket, Jillian started up the stairs, going as quietly as she could. It was a simple trick, but, man, it was going to be effective. Jillian was already rehearsing what she was going to say when she gave her report to her mother later that night - about how the girls had ran the shower but had sneakily not bathed themselves completely. The girls' sticky skin would be the proof in the pudding for her parents - and combine that with the girls refusing to finish their dinner, letting perfectly good food go to waste, this was going to be a cinch.

It did not even begin to avenge those two little four-year-olds, but at least Slappy had even more ideas for tomorrow...

Jillian felt a grin spread across her face as she reached the top of the stairs -

\- and she nearly jumped out of her skin when Katie materialized in front of her.

Jillian made a mad grab for the banister, barely managing to steady herself in time. "Don't _do_ that!" she snapped, clutching her pounding chest. "I could've fallen!"

"I didn't mean to," her sister said softly, her squeaky voice sounding odd. Her little hands wrung together. "Jillian, can I talk to you real quick?"

Jillian climbed the last few steps onto the landing, quick to move away from the edge. "I got dinner cooking downstairs," she said briskly, stuffing her hands into her pockets as she strode past. "Can it wait?"

"Please?" the younger girl pressed, following after her right to the bathroom door. "It's really, _really_ important."

Jillian was about to close the door in her face, but as she looked down, something in her sister's eyes made her stop. She exhaled, spinning on the ball of her foot. "What do you want?" she drawled, slumping against the door frame.

Katie's gaze fixed squarely on hers. "You need to apologize to Mary-Ellen."

Jillian was taken aback - and she frowned. "Excuse me? Why should **_I_** apologize?" she demanded. " ** _I_** never did anything to her."

"You won't let her be with Slappy, and she hates you," Katie replied. She pressed her hands together, giving her a pleading look. "She doesn't like it when you call her ugly or when you shoved her head in macaroni last week or when you say she can't go with us out of the house - but if you apologize, then we can all be friends."

"'Friends'?" Jillian repeated flatly.

Katie nodded fiercely. "Then Mary-Ellen can play with Slappy, and she'll be nice to you."

Jillian felt her hands clench. "So, I should apologize - when _you_ guys stuffed Petey into Slappy?" she demanded softly, taking a step forward. Katie immediately backed away. "When _you_ guys messed up my clown act?" she went on, taking another step. "When _she_ put Slappy to sleep? When _she_ slaps me when you swing her around? When _she_ wanted to give me a haircut? When **_I_** bought that dumb doll her own ice-cream cone - before I even knew she was alive?"

Katie was almost to the other side of the hall now, and she suddenly sprang to the side, moving out of the line of forced retreat before she could be completely cornered between the wall and the wooden banister. "You'll be sorry if you don't," she warned, shaking herself as her frown deepened.

Jillian gritted her teeth. "Bring. It. On."

Katie opened her mouth to reply - and suddenly, her own bedroom door creaked at the other end of the hall, and Amanda stuck her head into the hall.

"Katie," her twin said in a simple voice, "Mary-Ellen wants to talk to you."

Katie visibly hesitated - but then she jerked a nod, starting forward. "Coming."

"Better wash up," Jillian called after them as the door began to shut. "We'll be eating just as soon as the garlic bread's done."

Her parents came out of their bedroom then, and Jillian stepped aside to let both of them head downstairs. "I'll call you guys later to check in on you," Mom said as she passed. "I've already told the twins that I'm going to ask you about their behavior."

"Have fun," she replied. Jillian waited until she heard the front door swing shut and the lock click before she bolted into the bathroom.

It was not at all hard to unscrew the shower head. Within seconds she unwrapped the candies and stuffed them inside. She headed back downstairs to start on the garlic bread - just in time to glance through the small glass planes of the front door and see Harrison coming up the front steps.

* * *

"Hey, you left school before I could talk to you," he said as soon as she opened the storm door.

She shrugged. "Yeah, I'm watching the girls tonight." That, and she had been so anxious to check on Slappy that she had barely acknowledged anyone on the school grounds as she had made a beeline for her bike. "What's up?"

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. "So, yesterday, I called the magic store, and they don't have any ventriloquist dummies."

"Bummer," she replied, leaning against the door frame. "Did you try the pawn shops?"

"Yeah, three, but I only found those little hand puppets that preschool teachers use. So, I called the Little Theater, and they gave me the ventriloquist's address," he added and held up the scrap of paper so that she could see.

Jimmy O'James? Jillian frowned. "Why do you want that?"

"I'll bet he has another dummy he could sell us," Harrison replied brightly. "Or maybe he could loan us one. What do you think?"

She hesitated, not sure how to respond. It was odd to remember the young ventriloquist. The last time she had seen him he had begged her to get rid of Slappy before vanishing without a trace. She could still see the terrified look on his serious face, like a monster was about to eat him - but Slappy was not _that_ bad. Sure, he took a little getting used to, but would someone so supposedly horrible have played checkers with her after a sabotaged party or have summoned bugs just for her little lizard? The dummy certainly had no love lost toward his former partner whenever he did speak of him - and, really, who would be thrilled to find out they had been stuffed inside a trash can after they had been knocked unconscious?

"He might be busy," she said carefully. "How can you be sure he has other dummies?"

"You never know. If he threw out Slappy, he must have a second one to use, right?"

Her mouth twitched. "I guess."

"We should at least try," he pressed. "Can you come with me?"

She shook her head. "Babysitting, remember?"

"I mean, tomorrow. There's no school because of the teacher's conference," he reminded her. "Maybe your mom can drive us."

She considered that. She certainly did want to have a word with Jimmy and find out just why he had thrown her little friend into the trash - and... maybe the ventriloquist might just _happen_ to mention to Harrison that Slappy was alive. If he did, Harrison could finally get in on the secret while she could still keep her promise - and if Harrison knew, then Slappy would not have to play dead around him, and he would have one more human he could trust. Maybe - just maybe - if the two of them could actually talk with each other, they could become friends. Then the three of them could work as a team...

"Hey, can I come in real quick?" Harrison asked, cutting into her thoughts. "I got some great ideas for our ventriloquist act."

Oh, yeah. They still needed a script. Funny how revenge could make one forget things. "Sure," she replied and stepped back to let his large frame step through the door.

He headed into the den, dropping his backpack on the old, plaid couch, and began to pull out what looked like library books with laughing cartoon drawings on the covers. _Laugh-a-Minute Joke Book_ , _The Gut-Buster's Guide to Giggles and Guffaws_ , and _Laugh Yourself Silly_ were some of the titles. "Where are your sisters?" he asked. "Aren't they usually hogging the T.V. around now?"

"Not tonight," she replied and glanced toward the door that led to the kitchen. "I'll be right back," she added. Harrison just gave a thumbs up and flipped through one of his books.

Slappy was picking up a long noodle when she came in. He turned his head, a mischievous smile on his red lips, and opened his mouth to speak -

"Do you have anything to eat?" Harrison called from the den.

Slappy's eyes instantly narrowed.

"One sec!" Jillian called back and turned back to the dummy, holding up her hands. "I can explain."

"Three little words I've _longed_ to hear you say," he hissed back. "What's _he_ doing here?"

"He's here for the act," she whispered. "We gotta write a script, remember?"

His little jaw clicked. "Tell him to leave. _WE_ already have plans for this evening, darling."

"We also have a job to do this weekend if we want any money," she retorted, "and _you_ promised to help." She then turned back toward the den. "Spaghetti good, Harrison?"

"When is it ever not?" Harrison quipped back, and she heard him rise to his feet and approach the kitchen. Slappy drooped against the wall just as the tall boy entered.

"Hey, buddy," he greeted the dummy with a careless wave and made a beeline for the cabinet where the dishes were kept. "Were you practicing with him?" he asked Jillian.

"You might say that," she replied, fingering the little pile of supplies. "Enjoy the food while you can," she warned as Harrison began to scoop noodles onto the plate. "It won't be so tasty in a bit." She held up the little bottle of Dad's cayenne-pepper tablets.

He looked at her in surprise - but then she saw his dark eyes changed as he caught on. A bright smile appeared on his large face. "Need help?"

"Well, you can help make the special spaghetti sauce," she said sweetly and handed him the bottle along with a few other choice ingredients.

"Aw, man," he laughed as he looked at the labels. Jillian made sure to store an unaltered helping of food in a Tupperware bin before she allowed Harrison to start mixing.

As soon as Harrison turned his huge back, Slappy raised his head, and he shot her an ugly look. _Get rid of him. Now._

She pressed her hands together. _Give him a chance_ , she mouthed.

Slappy's glare deepened.

Jillian frowned and stepped closer, leaning in. "I had to step in pudding. I say he can help," she whispered to him, undeterred, and turned away without another word.

* * *

Jillian popped in the garlic bread into the oven, setting the timer for fifteen minutes, before she retrieved the vinegar and the eyedropper. She would have to cut the bread into slices first anyway, so she would be able to experiment on a few first. The trick would be to put on just enough to make it gross while not making it so noticeable that the girls smelled it before they even took a bite.

"This is a pretty big step up for you," Harrison commented as he finished stirring the red sauce. "I mean, last week you didn't want to do anything that would get you grounded for life, but now you're rigging their dinner."

"Things change," she replied as she grabbed the big ceramic serving bowl to place the spicy spaghetti in. "This time around I know if they go tattling, Mom and Dad won't believe them."

Harrison quirked a dark eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

She leaned back against the counter. "We-e-ell, a certain mastermind might have done a few things to make _them_ get in trouble for once," she said, giving Slappy a subtle, appreciative wink. "Now, Mom and Dad don't think they're so cute anymore."

Harrison started to laugh. "Good for you!"

"Yep," she quipped. "See, someone told me that grown-ups always favor little kids. So, I can't prank the girls without getting into trouble, right?"

"Guess not."

"But what if it looked like the girls were pulling mean tricks on my parents instead?" she continued. "Mom and Dad wouldn't like that, would they?"

Harrison nodded. "What did you do?"

Jillian felt her grin stretch. Oh, where to _start_? She really wanted to tell Harrison the truth - not that she would, even if she did not have Slappy sitting right beside her arm - but maybe if she started talking about the dummy's tricks, and if Harrison responded favorably to them, Slappy's own desire to brag would make him _want_ to tell Harrison himself. Someday. Hopefully.

As she scooped the red noodles into the serving bowl, she told Harrison about the worms in the bed, the pudding in her shoes, the torn-up homework, the orange juice, and a few of Slappy's other tricks from the list - editing it down, of course. "And I might've stuffed my dad's fifty-dollar bill into Katie's piggy bank," she finished with a snicker.

Harrison had been chuckling along with her, but now his dark eyes bulged. "You did _that_?" he asked, much like Slappy had done, but he sounded a lot more shocked.

"Yep," she said proudly.

His brow furrowed. "That doesn't sound like you."

"Well, I _did_ it," she insisted, frowning. She had not even needed Slappy's help for that one.

He held up his hands. "I believe you. I believe you. It's just, well…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "A little much, don't you think? I mean, there's worms in the bed, and then there's..." he paused, grimacing, "... _stealing_."

She narrowed her eyes. "Harrison, _they_ put soap in our pie," she reminded him. "They could've blinded us - or those kids. They crossed a line this time. We gotta fight mean. Besides, Dad got his money back, so he wasn't hurt."

"I guess," he replied and fidgeted with the checkered tablecloth.

Her frown deepened, and she pointed a finger at him. "Hey, _you_ were the one who wanted to put bugs in their drinks. How is hiding money any different?"

His mouth twitched. "You're right," he agreed with a reluctant sigh. "Take no prisoners, right?" He suddenly nodded his head toward the door. "So, uh, wanna look at the joke books?" he asked quickly. "I have this terrific idea for our act. Wanna hear it?"

"Sure," she said and waited for him to head into the den before she turned to collect Slappy, scooping him into her arms.

His head snapped toward her, shooting her a withering glare.

Jillian frowned. "He's my best friend," she told him. "We could use his help." The scowl only deepened. Jillian shook her head at him. "Just think about it, alright? For me? Please?" He did not respond, but she did not expect him to right then. Without another word, she followed after Harrison.

* * *

Harrison flopped down on the furthest side of the couch, almost knocking over the stack of joke books. "Alright, so we won't know which jokes we _really_ want until we know what the other dummy looks like, right?"

"I guess," Jillian replied as she sat down on the other side of the pile, propping the dummy beside her.

Harrison held up a notebook. "So, I had an idea. What if the act was about another dummy wanting to be funny? Like, _really_ funny? Maybe Slappy is this famous dummy, so the other guy wants lessons, but he only knows lame jokes - like, _beyond_ lame. Slappy tries to teach him some good ones, but the other guy doesn't get it, so Slappy just starts to make fun of him instead."

Jillian glanced down at the cracked face, but, of course, he did not reply, not even to twitch an eyelid. "It could be funny," she said slowly. "Slappy is definitely star material."

Harrison picked up the top book and flipped to a page with a torn piece of notebook paper for a bookmark. "I've already been getting a lotta ideas. We can go through these and pick out the best - and the worst - to use for our script."

His dark eyes were gleaming brighter than Jillian had ever seen them. Last week she practically had to drag him by the ear to get him motivated for the clown act, but now he was taking the initiative as if their little business had been his idea from the start. Of course, she reflected, Harrison loved puppets. Who else would have grabbed a broken dummy from a trash can and taken him home?

Jillian took the next book in the pile, angling it so that Slappy could look too - but she thought she heard a small scoff of disgust escape the wooden head. "I like that Slappy gets to shine in this," she said, giving the dummy a small, but deliberate, nudge. _Just give him a chance_.

It was then that she heard the creak of floorboards.

Jillian turned her head. "Katie, Amanda, you better not be trying to sneak into the basement to watch T.V.," she warned.

"We're not," Katie's squeaky voice called back from the living room. "We can't find one of our bean dolls."

"Can you help us look?" Amanda chimed in.

"After dinner," Jillian replied briskly. "It's almost ready. Did you guys wash up?"

She heard Katie make a disgusted sound before both pairs of feet stomped towards the downstairs bathroom.

Jillian leaned closer to Harrison. "Almost showtime," she grinned.

Harrison covered his mouth to suppress a snicker. "Maybe you should grab a camera," he whispered.

"Hmph!" came a raspy snort.

Jillian froze - but Harrison's grin stretched. "Hey, that's pretty good. I didn't know you could throw your voice."

"I… practiced," she replied, shooting Slappy a look.

"And you thought _I'm_ weird for liking ventriloquism," he teased.

"I think you're weird anyway," she returned, earning another laugh.

Harrison pointed to the opened notebook page, which was covered in scribbles. "I've found a lot of great jokes for Slappy. Here, let me show you what I've been working on," and he reached for the dummy before she could stop him.

Jillian had to force herself not to make a mad grab for Slappy as he was hauled into Harrison's lap. She tried to give a casual smile, but she knew it must have looked strained. "Hey, I don't think that's a good idea."

"I'll be careful," he promised, leaning Slappy's skinny torso over one arm while he slipped his fingers into the hole in the wooden back - and nothing else. "Huh," he said and tried again, but his hand stopped just as his knuckle tapped the side. Harrison jiggled and twisted his hand, but try as he might, it would not go in.

"That's weird," he frowned. "My hand fit before." He rested the dummy against his leg and tried to gently pull the folds of checkered cloth back to examine the hole, but even the fabric would not budge. The small opening remained the same size. His serious gaze shot to Jillian. "Did the wood get warped or something?"

"I… couldn't tell you," she replied even as her heart sank.

Harrison struggled with the hole, but it was hard for Jillian to watch without gagging. "Here, give him to me," she ordered, fighting hard to keep back the sudden nausea. Harrison passed Slappy over, and Jillian pretended to inspect him. "Why don't you read me what you got so far?" she suggested.

"Sure," he replied, but it was clear he was disappointed as he gazed at the limp form of his broken dummy, dangling lifelessly over Jillian's arm - and, fortunately, he did not seem to hear the faint sniff of contempt that escaped the puppet.

* * *

This was not going at all like she had pictured it, Jillian thought glumly.

Maybe she should have just left Slappy on the counter so that he could have _some_ freedom to move about - but she had not wanted him to feel left out while she and Harrison worked on the script. She wanted him to be in on their act as an equal partner - even if he wanted nothing to do with Harrison.

"...Well, what do you think?" she heard Harrison say, and she realized he was looking at her expectantly. She gave him a quick smile, but he grimaced. "Is it _that_ boring?"

"No, I just - " Fortunately, she was saved by the creak of floorboards again.

"We're eating as soon as the garlic bread's ready," she called over her shoulder.

"There's still five minutes," Amanda replied by the stairs. Her normally calm voice sounded strange, almost upset. "We gotta find Mr. Beanie!" Both pairs of feet thundered upstairs.

"'Mr. Beanie'?" Harrison repeated, raising a dark eyebrow.

"Six-year-olds," Jillian snorted, rolling her eyes.

"Still better than 'Zappy'," he returned. "So, what do you think of this part?" He started to use his raspy Slappy voice. "That joke was horrible, dummy. You're so stupid that when somebody told you it was chilly outside, you went out with a bowl."

Jillian winced a little. "I've heard that one before," she admitted. "Slappy deserves something a little more original."

"Hear, hear," the dummy chimed.

* * *

Harrison's mouth dropped open - and then he broke out into a laugh. "Wow! That sounded _just_ like how Jimmy O'James did the voice."

Jillian recovered from her shock. "It comes and goes," she said quickly, moving her hand behind Slappy's back to make it look like she was controlling him, but her fingers rested just outside the little hole - which was not so little now, she noticed. She looked down at the blank eyes. "Slappy, is there something you want to tell Harrison?"

She waited a few moments with bated breath, but the dummy remained still.

"Guess not," she said lamely.

"You gotta do the voice for him when we go see him," Harrison chuckled. He then opened to a bookmarked page and held up one hand like a sock puppet. "One of my favorites is this one here. 'Hey, Jillian, do you know the difference between a dead skunk and a peanut butter sandwich?'" he made his hand ask, obviously trying to keep his lips still.

"No, what?" she replied.

The thick hand shook its makeshift head. "Remind me never to ask you for a sandwich!"

Jillian gave a small laugh. "The kids will like that."

"Hmph!" the dummy snorted again.

Jillian rolled her eyes before she grabbed the dummy and sat him in her lap. "Slappy, do you have anything to say about Harrison's script?" _Either put up or shut up, buster_.

The puppet did not reply for a long moment. Finally - slowly - he turned his head.

"You want me to talk, Jillian?" he asked sweetly. ...Except it was not in his usual shrill, hoarse voice - because, Jillian immediately realized, he was imitating _her_ impression of _him_. "Fine, I'll talk." He whirled around in her arms and faced the boy.

"Hey, there, Harrison - or should I call you Scare-rison? Is that your face, or did a Halloween mask eat your head?" he demanded.

The boy's large eyes widened.

Jillian felt her stomach tightened. "Slappy, don't you dare - " she tried to say, but the puppet kept talking, still in her voice.

"I used to travel with a carnival that had better-looking freaks than you," he taunted. "If ugliness were bricks, you'd be the Great Wall of China! You're so ugly that when you walk into banks, they turn the cameras off! You're so ugly you went into a haunted house, and the monsters accused you of copying their costumes!"

"Slappy!" Jillian warned through gritted teeth. Harrison was not saying anything. His eyes were jumping between her and the dummy - and there was no way she was going to let Slappy make her best friend think she was saying those nasty things to him.

Slappy, meanwhile, scoffed at her. "What's your _problem_ , Jillian?" he demanded. "Isn't this what you wanted? Me talking to your sweet, _darling_ Harrison? Besides, the jokes are just going over his head anyway - bet that's a first!" he sneered at the tall boy. "Who said you could write comedy anyway? Your mommy? Ha! She's so stupid she tried to play 'Four Corners' in a round room! When you both went to the Wizard for a brain, did he make you share? Ha-ha! You're so stupid you tried to climb Mountain Dew! Why don't you leave the jokes to the professionals and go back to eating paste?"

"Slappy, I'm warning you - " she started to say, but she was interrupted again - this time as Harrison burst out laughing.

He slapped his huge thigh, doubling over. "That's what I'm talking about, Jillian!" he cried. "See? The act practically writes itself!" He grabbed his notebook. "C'mon, go back to the beginning. What was that thing about the Great Wall of China?"

Jillian blinked. "You actually _liked_ that stuff?"

He flashed her a big grin. "Sure! I mean, whoever heard of a _polite_ dummy? Even Lamb Chop had her moments."

Of course, he liked it. He was Harrison.

"Besides," he continued, "I know you're just joking. There's a lot worse stuff somebody could say."

Slappy jerked his head forward. "Is that a challenge?" he demanded, his voice becoming shriller. "Well, here's one for you. What do you get when you cross your mother with a garbage disposal - "

"Slappy!" Jillian cut in with a warning look, grabbing his shoulders.

The puppet sneered. "What? He said he _likes_ it, Jillian," he retorted before he turned back to the boy. "Hey, how 'bout you meet me over by the knife drawer, Harrison, and I'll show you something _really_ funny?"

Harrison just nodded. He was not even watching them now as his thick hand scribbled away. "This is great, Jill. Keep 'em comin'."

Slappy barked a laugh - which sounded strange with that slightly feminine tone. "Oh, like _Jill_ has enough brain cells for comedy," he said nastily. "This girl would lose her head if we didn't tape it down every morning. I guess you don't need to get a second dummy after all, Harrison, because we already have one!" He turned his head to meet Jillian's eyes. "Right, doll face?"

Jillian suppressed a shiver, resisting the urge to avert her gaze. It was not the insults that really bothered her - she had heard a lot more hurtful comments from Alyssa Thomas in the third grade - but it was the intense look in his cold, hard eyes when he said them - angry, almost predatory.

She drew herself up, trying to look calmer than she felt. "I don't know. I think I could outsmart you," she said slowly.

Slappy snorted. "Craftier beasts than you have tried."

"Well, I had a thought," she continued, keeping her gaze fixed on his. "You might not know this, but _you're_ the puppet, and _I'm_ the ventriloquist."

"Well, somebody gets a gold star today!" Slappy cracked.

She gave his back a soft pat. "Yeah, but - now hear me out on this - in order for a dummy act to work, only one of us can be speaking at a time, right? So, if you want to say anything, you'll have to wait until I'm done talking - because I'm talking for you, aren't I, Slappy?"

She saw the realization dawn on his wooden countenance. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off before he could utter another syllable.

"Now, what if I kept talking and talking and talking and talking and talking and talking and talking," and here she paused to suck in an exaggerated breath, "and talking and talking and talking? Or what if I started to sing, Slappy? I have the perfect song for you, buddy. You'll love it. Listen. _This is the song that doesn't end. Yes, it goes on and on, my friend…_ "

Harrison began to snicker. "Where do you come up with these ideas?" he cried.

She did not reply but kept up the song. " _...And they'll continue singing it forever just because this is the song that doesn't end…_ "

Slappy did not even blink, but a shadow crossed his face as his eyes continued to stare at her - as if he were trying to bore a hole inside her skull. She had just begun the fourth round of the eternal tune when, suddenly, the little wooden arm jerked - right into her side.

"Oww!" she cried out, losing her grip on the dummy, and he flopped over to his side, staring blankly at the joke books.

"You okay?" Harrison asked, leaning forward.

"Y-Yeah, I m-must've bumped him accidentally," she said through her teeth, sucking in a sharp breath. She got to her feet, hoisting the stiff little body into her arms. "I'll be right back," she told Harrison, and she was glad he did not question why she was taking the dummy with her. He was too busy jotting down ideas, still chuckling to himself.

* * *

She all but threw the puppet onto the dining table, causing the dishes Mom had laid out to rattle. "That _hurt_ , Slappy!" she hissed, clutching the throbbing area. "What's the _matter_ with you?"

The dummy snorted. "Oh, _please_ , that was just a love tap," he sneered.

"Love tap, my foot!" she shot back. "I've never seen you act like this!"

A scowl appeared. "Because you know me SO well, RIGHT, Jillian?" he snapped through his teeth. "Because you can talk for me when I can't. Because I am ever so HELPLESS without you." His little hands tightened. "Well, you wouldn't HAVE to talk for me if you had sent that freak away. We COULD'VE had a nice evening together - but I guess you'd rather have me lifeless on a counter while you and Harrison put OUR plan into action!"

His blue eyes were ablaze, but there was more than just rage in his glare now. Disgust was visible upon his carved features - as well as betrayal.

Jillian felt herself swallow without meaning to. "We have to work on the script," she returned, but her voice sounded soft. "We only have a few days to write a whole new act. I wasn't trying to exclude you," she insisted. "I want you to be a part of everything, Slappy."

He took a step toward her. "So, you want me to be in the loop, Jillian? How about you start by telling me what that ape meant about going to see Jimmy?"

Oh, boy. Jillian straightened her shoulders. "Harrison can't find another dummy anywhere else," she explained, forcing a disinterested shrug. "He got Jimmy's address from the Little Theater, and he wants to go tomorrow to see if he can get a spare dummy."

His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "And just when were you going to tell me _that_ , dearest?"

"I only just found out today," she retorted. "Harrison's looked everywhere else for a second puppet, and he thinks Jimmy might have a spare. _Does_ he?"

"I don't know, and I don't care," he growled. "If I ever see him again, I'm gonna rip his head off."

Jillian held up her hands. "You won't have to see him," she promised, but the blue eyes flashed.

"Don't you dare go to him, Jillian," he hissed, his soft voice beginning to rise. "He threw me away! He knocked me out and threw me away for some dump truck to crush me. Don't you DARE go to him, do you hear me? Don't you DARE go!"

Jillian took a deep breath. "Alright, I won't," she returned, mind racing. "But it'll be hard for me to convince Harrison not to go. He's part of the act, and he needs a dummy. What do you _want_ me to tell him, Slappy? How can I explain it to him?"

Slappy bared his teeth. "Why does there even NEED to be two of you?" he hissed.

Something flared inside her, and she took a step toward him. "Listen, buster," she glared, pointing a finger at him, "Harrison is my best friend, and you're gonna have to get used to that. He's the only one of my friends who dressed up as a clown to help me, and I'm not gonna kick him out just because _you_ don't like him."

He was silent for a long moment, staring at her - and in a flash, his arms lashed out, grabbing her shirt collar. Jillian barely had time to stop the rest of her body from crashing into the table before her face was inches from his.

His wooden eyes were as sharp as knives. "Let me make this clear, little girl. I am not going to tell Harrison. Ever. It's MY secret, Jillian - MY life!" His voice was becoming shriller. "I'm not interested in 'making friends' with every moonstruck buffoon you happen to favor. I'm trying to SURVIVE in a world full of flesh bags that would sooner treat me like a piece of property than a person. Do you understand that?" he demanded. "Are there enough brains in your soft head to comprehend ANY of that?"

She knew he was right, and she had every intention of apologizing for her thoughtlessness - but not with his hands so close to her throat. "Let go of me," she ordered, grabbing his wrists.

His grip only tightened on the fabric. "I really like you, Jillian," he hissed, bringing his face still closer. "A lot more than the other humans I've had to deal with, but I have _limits_. Do _not_ push me over them."

Her heart was pounding with adrenaline, but she forced her mouth into a straight line, hoping he did not hear the breath she sucked in to calm her tight chest. "If you want to leave," she said slowly, painfully aware of how strained her voice sounded, "the door is right over there. I won't stop you."

His jaw clicked. Finally, he scoffed and leaned away, but his grip remained firm. "Nice try, kid. But just remember, _you_ need me a lot more than **_I_** need you. What would you do about Mary-Ellen if I _did_ leave?" he mocked. "Who would help you? Your parents? Your best friend in there? Face it. I'm all you got, Jillian."

"Let go," she repeated.

"Say please," he sneered.

She stared at him for a long moment.

\- And suddenly, Harrison's voice called from the den, "Hey, Jillian? Do you smell something burning?"

In that instant, a loud beeping went off.

Jillian froze.

The smoke detector.

Slappy staggered back, his little face a mask of horror as he released her. Jillian did not pause. She bolted into the kitchen - and let out a shriek.

The entire stove top was on fire.

* * *

 _I gotta get the girls. I gotta get Slappy_.

"Jillian, move!" Harrison cried behind her, barely audible over the screaming detector and the pounding in her ears. She narrowly missed being mowed down by his barreling bulk as Harrison charged toward the fire extinguisher on the wall.

In seconds, the pin was pulled - the hose aimed - and the leaping, hot flames were blanketed with foam. Billows of smoke filled the air. It took a while - or maybe just seconds - but, finally, it was over, and Harrison staggered back. "Thank you, Grandma," he exhaled weakly. He grimaced, surveying the scene. "Wow."

Jillian stared at the blackened mess. The orange light showed that the oven was still on, still baking the garlic bread - although she could see through the small window that it was starting to burn. Wasting no time, she grabbed an oven mitt and reached across the searing hot stove to twist the knob, doing her best not to burn herself.

She staggered away from the smoking mess and bumped into the kitchen table. "How - ?" was all she managed to choke out.

The alarm was still screaming. Harrison sprang for the kitchen broom and pressed the handle to the button. In an instant the kitchen fell silent, but the ringing still lingered in Jillian's ears.

Then realization struck her.

"I'll kill them!" she shrieked, her hands balling into fists.

"Sick!" Harrison shuddered, shaking his head.

"They actually did it!" Jillian screamed, turning on her heel. "They actually set the house on fire!"

"Jillian, wait up!" Harrison cried, but she was already sprinting toward the stairs.

She thundered up the steps, taking them two at a time, and charged down the hall. The door was opened as if waiting for her, and she bolted through.

The girls were at the foot of Amanda's bed, legs dangling over the side, and both stared at her without a trace of surprise. Mary-Ellen sat in her wicker chair between them.

Jillian opened her mouth to scream at them - raised both hands to grab one of them - and then a voice she had never heard before began to speak - no, no, not speak. _Think_. There was no other way to describe it.

The voice - smug, female - invaded her mind, causing her to reel and clutch the door frame to keep from collapsing.

 _Remember when you told me to "do my worst," Jillian?_ _Well, guess what. THAT wasn't it._

Both girls promptly giggled as if it were the best joke ever.

"She _said_ you'd be sorry, " Katie tittered.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Advice is appreciated.


	8. Chapter 8

"H-How - ?" Jillian stammered, staring, trying to catch her breath - and then a surge of anger rushed through her, clearing away the mental fog. "You could've _killed_ us, you freak!" she cried. In two steps she grabbed the doll by both shoulders, causing the girls to gasp and shrink back. Jillian ignored them. " _What is WRONG with you_?!" she screamed. She shook the plastic body, causing the frizzy head to flop back and forth.

Mary-Ellen's painted face remained expressionless, but Jillian saw in her mind an image of a cruel smirk.

The voice gave a dark laugh.

Jillian shuddered - but she forced her mind to focus, to ignore the wild fear that was urging her to turn and run. Summoning all her strength, she hauled the large doll into the air - and brought her crashing down, ramming her plastic head against the bed frame.

Both girls began to shriek.

"Don't hurt her!" Amanda cried, jumping off the bed and making a mad rush for the doll, but Jillian raised her high above her sister's head.

"You'll make her mad!" Katie warned.

Jillian just swung again. And again.

The doll only giggled.

"Jillian, stop!" Harrison cried behind her, but she barely heard him over the high-pitched cackling.

"Stop laughing!" she screamed at the smiling plastic face.

"Nobody's laughing," the boy said, and she felt his thick arms wrap around her, grabbing her wrists until the doll dropped lifelessly to the floor.

 _Maybe I'll return the favor sometime, soft head_ , Mary-Ellen tittered.

"Shut up!" Jillian shot back.

Amanda made a dash for the laughing doll and scooped her up, cradling her. "She hurt Mary-Ellen!" she wailed.

"She's crazy!" Katie declared nastily, facing Harrison. "Get her out of here!"

Jillian stopped thrashing and glared at her sister. "You're next."

"Jillian, stop!" Harrison ordered, yanking her off her feet. She tried to twist free, but he held fast, and in three large steps he hauled her into the hall. Katie quickly sprang forward and slammed the door shut - and the laughter finally ceased.

"Let _GO_ , Harrison!" Jillian shrieked. "We gotta stop them! It has to stop!"

He planted her on her feet, careful to place himself between her and the door, and grabbed her wrist before she could bolt around him. "You think your parents are gonna let them get away with this?" he demanded. "Calm down! It'll be okay. They're toast."

"Let go!" she ordered again, struggling to break free, but it was like trying to escape a gorilla. "You don't understand! We gotta _do_ something! Before they hurt somebody!"

He grabbed her other arm, forcing her to face him. "It'll be fine, Jillian," he promised. "Your parents will ground them. Or take them to a shrink. They won't get away with this, Jillian. Calm down."

"It's not enough! Lemme go!" she choked out, nearly suffocating with rage and nerves. Didn't he see how high those flames were? Didn't he hear those kids screaming as soap went into their little eyes? Didn't he know about Petey? He had to let her go! She had to get rid of that doll! "You don't understand!" she cried again.

He continued to look at her with his steady gaze. "What?" he asked softly. "Tell me. What don't I understand, Jillian?"

She uttered a growl. She knew he would never believe her, not without some shred of proof - but she had to tell him _something_. Had to make him see. "It's Mary-Ellen!" she declared. "She's - " but that was all she got out before the downstairs telephone began to ring.

For a brief second both of them froze. Then Harrison nodded his head to the stairs. "Better answer it."

"But - "

"Go on. It'll give you a chance to calm down," he insisted. "Then you can tell me all about it." He gave her a small nudge.

Jillian saw she had no choice. She uttered a frustrated growl and sprang toward the staircase, taking the steps in bounds. In seconds she was in the living room, and she grabbed the phone on its seventh ring. "Hello?"

"Jillian? Is that you?" Mom's voice asked. "You sound out of breath."

 _Mom!_

Jillian clutched the phone. "Mom! Mom! You won't _believe_ what they've done this time!"

* * *

Of course, her parents were furious. Positively livid. The three girls could have been hurt. The family could have ended up homeless. On top of all that, the cost to repair and replace everything would be expensive - and Jillian had been right. They did _not_ believe her.

"Why didn't you double check that the stove was off?!" Mom demanded, gesturing wildly to the blackened stove. "Why would you leave the kitchen for so long?! What were you doing?!"

"You and the girls could've been killed!" Dad cried, his face turning red right up to his balding scalp. "You were responsible for them, Jillian! What were you doing?!"

"Me?" she cried, sputtering. "I was in the next room with Harrison. I set the timer for the oven - "

"I saw her," Harrison interjected beside her.

" - And I _know_ I turned the stove off." She jerked a finger toward the huddling twins, who had Mary-Ellen between them. " _They_ were in here and - "

"Don't you dare try to pin this on the girls, Jillian," Mom snarled, her gray eyes becoming ice. "This was _your_ responsibility. I'm beyond disappointed."

Jillian felt her stomach knot even as her teeth clenched. "They did it!" she cried. "I don't know how, but they did it! They're sick, Mom! They're dangerous! You gotta _do_ somethin - " but Mom cut her off.

"They're _six... years... old_ , Jillian!" her mother seethed through her teeth. "Do you really expect me to believe that? Do not try to blame them for _your_ negligence!"

Katie stepped forward, her little eyes looking miserable. "She's crazy, Mommy!" she wailed. "We never touched the stove!"

"She came into our room and started hurting Mary-Ellen!" Amanda whimpered, pulling back the brown yarn hair to show them the small dent on the plastic scalp. "She scared us! Ask Harrison."

Both of their parents turned to the boy, and Harrison quickly held up his hands. "It was rough for everyone," he said weakly. "I would've snapped too."

Jillian cringed and shot him a look. _Not helping_.

Mom stared at her, her face tightening. "Jillian, this - this - " she stopped short, shaking her head. "Girls - all of you - go. Just go. Your father and I need to discuss this. Harrison, it's time you went home."

* * *

The twins bolted upstairs without a word, the grinning doll jostling on Amanda's shoulder, but Jillian's legs were trembling as she shuffled her way through the den. She sucked in a deep breath, clenching her hands. _What have you gotten yourself into, Jillian Zinman?_ She had an evil doll in her house. Her sisters had brought to life an evil doll that had set fire to her house. An evil doll that could speak with her mind. And set fire to her house. And she could not even tell her parents the truth without looking like a complete lunatic. She could not even tell her best friend.

 _What am I going to do?_

She heard the creak of floorboards, and she looked up in time to stop herself from running into Harrison, who had materialized at the bottom of the stairs, his backpack already slung onto his shoulders. He gave her a half smile. "It'll be okay, Jillian," he promised softly, and his thick arm came up then - and she saw that he was holding Slappy by the collar of his sports jacket.

The glassy eyes stared back at her.

Jillian did not move. "Where was he?" she asked quietly.

"In the living room," Harrison replied, "sitting on the couch. Good thing you took him out of the kitchen when you did, or he might be charcoal now."

She swallowed dryly. "Yeah," she said softly, watching the grinning face. She had looked for him - right after the phone call - but when she could not find him, she had assumed he must have gotten out of the house at the first sign of fire.

"At least we still have one dummy," Harrison offered helpfully and extended his arm further for her to grab the smiling puppet.

She hesitated - and finally took him carefully into her arms. She hoisted the dummy on her hip and, out of habit, straightened his checked jacket for him, trying to ignore the chill that ran through her. "It's a good thing you knew how to use a fire extinguisher," she added, forcing herself to turn back to Harrison. "I didn't even think about it."

"A lotta people wouldn't," he assured her. "I wouldn't have if it weren't for Grandma. The day after my dad left, she started drilling me about fire safety. She's always worried that Mom will forget to put out a cigarette and burn the whole duplex down." He gave a shrug. "When you need a chair lift to go up and down stairs, you worry about that stuff, I guess."

Jillian could only nod.

Harrison gave her shoulder a small pat. "It'll be okay, Jillian. Take care of my dummy for me," he said before he finally turned, and the door closed softly behind him.

Alone now, she slowly held Slappy up in front of her. He stared back with his default smile, his eyes lifeless. She swallowed, waiting.

"I'm sorry," she said at last.

He did not even blink.

"I really am." She took a deep breath. "If you don't want to do the act anymore, I understand. I'll tell Harrison we can go back to being clowns. You don't have to see him again if you don't want to." She searched his face, but his chipped grin remained in place. "For what it's worth," she added softly, "I'm really glad you're not at Harrison's house - and not just because of Mary-Ellen. Or our deal."

He said nothing for a long moment. Finally, he leaned his head forward, his blue eyes fixing hard on hers. "Did you really smack that doll around?"

She nodded. "A lot."

His smile widened. "That's my girl," he said softly, and his tiny, cold hand came up and pushed her black bangs off her face. "I think I'll keep you after all."

Jillian leaned away from his touch. "Right back at ya, buster," she cracked.

He tittered a little - and then his smile faded, and his eyes grew hard once again. "But let me make myself perfectly clear," he growled, and he pointed a stiff finger at her face. "I don't like being trapped, Jillian. At all. Don't you _ever_ drag me into a room with humans without my consent again. _Capisce_?"

She frowned. "I won't," she returned. "I'll ask you next time. But you can't hit me again either, buster. Or you're sleeping in the basement from now on."

Slappy stared at her for a moment - and then he uttered a quiet chuckle. "How can I say no to that face?" he teased cheerfully, patting her cheek.

She tilted her head out of his reach. "I mean it, Slappy," she warned.

"I know, doll." He leaned a little closer. "Now, why don't we go upstairs before your folks come in and wonder why you're talking to a dummy?"

It was probably the closest thing to a peace offering he had ever given her, so she decided to accept it as such.

Jillian sucked in another breath and hoisted him onto her hip again before she started up the stairs. The dummy hummed a Tom Lehrer tune under his nonexistent breath, and Jillian stole a glimpse at his chipped grin and felt her frown deepen. Sometimes, dealing with Slappy was like standing inside an elevator and not knowing whether it would decide to go up or down or sideways. One moment he could be the cool friend that gave her advice and watched _Looney Tunes_ with her, but then out of the blue he could turn into a little kid if things did not go his way - and she did not know what to make of it. In some ways he had mellowed out considerably since their first meeting, but then there would be flares in his demeanor. Not big ones, but noticeable - though, she reluctantly reminded herself, she already knew his people skills were limited. Most of his crankiness, ridicule, and complaints could be chalked up to a lack of experience on his part. In fact, relatively speaking, he had been behaving rather well this past week. The last time his actions had truly given her pause had been the first time Harrison came... over…

Jillian immediately chucked away that thought before it had the chance to take root. That was something which could never happen and would never happen, nope, nope, nope. Slappy had already said he saw himself as an older brother toward his girl owners - though it was a lot easier for Jillian to see _him_ as her little brother - and, besides, living dolls were territorial. He just saw her as his human instead of Harrison. That's all. No need to make this partnership any weirder. She already had enough on her plate dealing with her sisters and that psycho toy.

At that thought Jillian immediately slowed her climb. "Slappy," she whispered, "Mary-Ellen talked to me."

He raised his head. "What did she say?"

She shivered. "That setting the stove on fire wasn't the worst thing she could do," she answered. "I smacked her head against the bedframe, and she just laughed like it didn't even hurt." Her grip tightened on him without meaning to. "She could have hurt all of us, Slappy, even herself. How can someone do something so... _evil_?"

The dummy snorted. "That's an insult to evil," he retorted. "She's just sick. Your sisters too."

"We gotta stop them," she whispered. "We can't let them hurt anybody else."

Slappy's eyes narrowed to slits. "Well, if that hunk of junk wants a fight, she picked the wrong dummy to mess with," he declared - and promptly added, "And she threatened _me_ too. Don't forget that." He gave her a wink.

It was not his best joke, and she was not really in the mood to laugh, but it was such a tangible reminder of how easily Harrison could have taken the dummy to his own house two Saturdays ago - had it really only been that long? - that a small smile formed on her face anyway. "I'm really glad you're here, Slappy," she murmured.

The tiny hand came up again and gave her hair a gentle tug, much like the way her father did - yeah, like her father. "Likewise, sweetheart."

She reached the top of the stairs and glanced at her door with its paper thankfully still in place. Petey was probably asleep right now, peacefully unaware of the danger he had narrowly missed. Jillian shook her head, feeling her teeth clench. She could still see the girls and that doll sitting calmly in their room - knowing the danger, expecting her appearance. It was beyond sick. It was just plain psycho - and, yet, even as Jillian entered her room and set Slappy on the desk, another thought tugged at her attention, and she could see Katie standing in front of her, pleading that she apologize to the doll. So insistent. Had she known what Mary-Ellen had been planning? Then why had she laughed so hard afterwards? Or had even that appeal been part of Mary-Ellen's deranged game? And why was Mary-Ellen so keen to "play" with Slappy? What did that even mean?

She had just placed her hand on the door to close it when she stopped short. She turned toward the dummy. "I got an idea."

"A sign of the apocalypse," Slappy cracked.

"No, no. This could work," she insisted, excitement growing. "Listen - " but before she could finish she heard heavy footsteps storm to the bottom of the stairs.

"Jillian Zinman, did you put hot sauce in this spaghetti?" her father demanded.

Oh, boy...

* * *

The bald man was still yelling at his daughter, giving Slappy plenty of time to think - and time was something he was losing fast. He let out a pointless breath, tapping his black shoe against the desk's surface. If he were dealing with an _ordinary_ possessed doll, he might have tossed her into a trash compactor and called it a day. However, he knew if he took one step toward Mary-Ellen, she could just speak that one word, and he would be a dead man - and Jillian would be toast. Tonight's disaster only served to remind him just how fragile his ticket out of Snoozeville really was.

Slappy gazed at the glass tank where the lizard was watching him, obviously looking for his dinner. "You think you have troubles, Petey boy?" he mocked. "Try being tied to a scrap of paper sometime."

He could not wait any longer. He would have to get Jillian out of the house. It would be so easy to put a knife to that pretty throat in the dead of the night and force her to walk out the front door. Since she rode her bike to school, her parents would not even realize she was missing for hours - and by that time he would have gotten exactly what he needed. And then some. Sure, she would despise him afterward, probably forever, but he had waited too long for her, had invested too much in her, for it all to be ruined by some over-painted doll. It had to be done.

So easily done…

Yet, even as he tried to calculate how much time it would take for him to shuffle his way up and down the sixteen steps (making as little noise as possible) to get the knife necessary to claim his pretty prize, a small memory trickled to the forefront like a tiny bubble in a black pool - and once again he could hear her voice, frantic and fearful in the darkness, calling him back to life. Then the light returned, and he saw the bedroom again - and her. And then her soft arms were pulling him into an embrace that sent an unknown warmth coursing through his hollow body. And then -

He shook himself, chasing the memory away.

Petey was still looking at him, little eyes expectant. Slappy got to his wooden feet and reached for the lizard food before he climbed over to the little table. "Sure, I'll feed you," he said sweetly. "Just as soon as Jillian's here to see me do it. Might be awhile though, so don't hold your breath." He stood over the cage now and rattled the container above the reptile's head. The lizard followed the sound to the other corner. The container changed hands, and Petey hungrily moved after it. And again. And again.

Slappy snickered - and that was when he heard the soft footsteps in the hall. He froze - and the door creaked open.

In stepped one of the brats, the girly one that always wore her hair down. In her arms was Mary-Ellen.

The doll's heart-shaped smile was wider than normal. "Did you like my surprise, sweetie?" she purred. "Seemed only fair after that little trick with the video tape - and the pudding - and the homework - and... Oh, what am I forgetting, child?" she asked, turning her head to the little girl.

The kid continued to stare stiffly in front of her. "The worms," she said quietly.

"Oh, yes, yes. Slappy has been busy, hasn't he?" she chuckled good-naturedly. "Not that he can help it, mind you. He's just doing what he was created to do. Poppa would be so proud," she added, turning to face the dummy again. "Pity you never got to meet him."

Slappy did not reply. He remained on his feet, gripping the glass tank.

She laughed again. "Do I leave you tongue-tied, darling? Bet _that's_ a first." Then her violet eyes grew hard. _What miseries you inflict on your little scullery maid is your own business, but the twins are MINE_ , he heard her growl. _You're not the master of this house yet, love. Mess with them again, and - well, it would be a shame to lose your only slave. Right?_

"Enjoy your stay, darling," she said aloud and gave him a coquettish wink. "Do come visit me sometime. It'd be so nice to catch up." She motioned to the grim-faced twin, and the little girl silently turned on her heel and closed the door behind her.

Slappy finally straightened. "Thanks, but I was leaving anyway," he muttered, laying the lizard food down.

* * *

He heard Jillian's familiar footsteps coming up in the stairs, and in moments the door opened once again. She trudged in, her thin shoulders slumped. "Grounded," she grumbled. "For life."

"Ouch," he replied, making his voice sympathetic even as he studied her neck. Just one little knife, a short trip, and he would be home free.

She flopped down in the chair and propped her elbows on the desk, exhaling through her teeth. "Because of the spaghetti, they won't even listen to me about the twins starting the fire. They think it's my fault. I can't even leave the house tomorrow."

"We'll work something out," he said soothingly, taking her soft hand. "You might want to put the shower back before you get into more trouble though."

Her green eyes widened. "I completely forgot about that!" she gasped.

He patted her thin fingers. "That's what I'm here for, doll," he grinned. Good, he told himself. Keep her in a false sense of security - but, really, he was doing _her_ the favor. After tonight she would never have to worry about parents or punishments or those brats or school. In a few weeks she would be _thanking_ him for elevating her from her miserable existence. "I'll think of something," he lied easily. "That doll won't know what hit her."

Her smooth face changed, and those doll-like lips slowly formed a smile. "Actually," she said, scooting closer, "I _think_ I might have a plan." He could hear excitement in her voice, and once again he saw that exquisite shimmer of corruption in her dreamboat eyes.

Oh, he would miss that.

"Do tell?" he smirked, leaning in as well. Although - he reflected, taking the chance to study those thin shoulders - it might be easier to put her in a headlock than to walk all the way down to the kitchen and back for one knife...

Jillian nodded. "I know how to beat her."

"I think you breathed in too much smoke, kid," he cracked, shaking his head. Or he could trick her, he considered. She had no school tomorrow. He could tell her he had left something at the Little Theater that could defeat the doll and convince her to sneak out. It was never opened on Tuesdays, but he could use his powers to unlock the back door. Then they would have the whole place to themselves...

Jillian leaned closer. "No, no, I think it will work," she said, her soft hand squeezing his own. Her green eyes sparkled now. "What if we change our strategy a little?"

That made him pause. "Are you saying you're done with pranks?" he asked carefully. Or there was the direct approach...

She shook her head. "Nope, something even better," she replied, and a new smile appeared - that adorable, mischievous smile. "I don't know why we didn't think of it before, but it'll be sneaky. She'll be gone for good. Wanna hear it?"

It took Slappy a moment before he realized he was staring. He felt his grin widen - genuinely. "Sure!" he said at last.

Maybe he could wait a day or two...

* * *

"It's not fair that Jillian didn't have school today," Katie grumbled, kicking off her shoes.

"I'm glad I went," Amanda announced, waving her new bracelet in front of Katie's face. " ** _I_** got enough gold stars to get this from the prize box. Don't they look like real diamonds?"

"Diamonds aren't pink," Katie replied, rolling her eyes. It was not fair Amanda always got gold stars either. Whenever Katie got stars, Mrs. Johnson took them away again because she said she was too hyper. So, Katie never got any prizes. Not fair at all.

"I think it's perfect," her sister said proudly. "I'm gonna wear it with my princess dress for Halloween."

Katie shook her head. "What if Mary-Ellen wants it?" she reminded her quietly.

Amanda stopped short, and her face fell. "It _is_ very pretty," she sighed, looking forlornly at her prize. "Mary-Ellen likes pink."

Katie did not like pink or bracelets or dress up - but she did not like seeing her sister look that way either. She grabbed her hand, glancing around. "I'll hide it for you," she promised softly.

Amanda's eyes widened. "B-But she'll be angry if you don't go up with me!" she whispered. Mary-Ellen said they must always go upstairs as soon as they got home from school.

"Tell her I had to go re-e-e-ally bad," Katie returned, sliding the bracelet off her sister's thin wrist and clenching it in her fist. "Tell her I was hopping up and down a lot."

Amanda made a face. "That's gross," she complained. She did not like talking about bathroom stuff.

"Just do it!" Katie hissed, pushing her toward the stairs. Amanda reluctantly started up, casting one last uncertain look over her shoulder, but Katie waved her away and crept on socked feet across the carpet into the living room.

She took a moment to survey her surroundings. She knew a lot of great hiding places for small stuff in the house, ones Mom did not check for months - like under the couch or behind the bookcase. She decided on the drawer of the side table, which was filled with odds and ends - spare change, matches for emergencies, pencils - and tucked it carefully under the phone book. Satisfied, Katie straightened and turned - and saw Jillian watching her in the dining room.

Her sister was sitting sideways in her usual chair, long legs crossed, and she seemed to be eating something. "Watcha doin'?" she asked curiously.

Katie straightened, glowering. "Nothin'."

"Looks like something," Jillian teased, but before Katie could think up a good comeback, her sister gestured to the big plate in front of her. "Want a cookie?" she asked. "Harrison's grandma made us a few casseroles and stuff after she heard what happened last night. One won't spoil your dinner." Jillian picked up a large chocolate-chip cookie and took a big bite. It looked soft and gooey - and not at all tampered with.

Katie shuffled forward cautiously over the soft carpet and picked one up - and gave a careful sniff. No hot sauce or weird stuff. It smelled like yummy chocolate. She glanced at her sister. "Did they fall on the floor?" she asked suspiciously.

"Nope," Jillian replied before she reached over and tore a piece off Katie's cookie, popping it in her mouth. "See?"

Katie looked down at the cookie - it really did smell good - and slowly took a bite.

 _Mmmmm!_

She shoved the rest into her mouth, already grabbing a second one. "These are great!" she said around a mouthful of pastry.

Jillian calmly wiped a speck of cookie crumb and spittle that had landed on her own thin cheek. "Feel free to take some up to Mary-Ellen too," she said softly.

Katie stopped mid-chew and squinted hard at her sister, who suddenly shook her head, an unhappy look on her face. Her big, green eyes looked troubled, Katie thought.

Jillian leaned forward. "You were right, Katie," she sighed. "I should have apologized when I had the chance."

Katie took a moment to swallow before speaking, giving her big sister a reproachful look. "She wouldn't have done it if you were nice to her," she reminded her.

Jillian nodded glumly. "I know. Slappy thinks we should've apologized too," she said. She took a deep breath. "So... he's thinking about playing with Mary-Ellen after all."

Katie almost dropped the second cookie. "Really?" she cried, excitement - and relief - erupting inside her.

Jillian held up her hands, a stern look on her face. "He's only _thinking_ about it, but he'll call a truce if she doesn't want to hurt him."

"She won't hurt him," Katie insisted. "She likes him."

Jillian squinted hard at her. "Well, she put him to sleep - and shoved a lizard in his mouth. That wasn't very nice."

Katie shook her head fiercely. "She wasn't trying to be mean," she replied. "To _him_. She was mad because you were mean to her, but she'll be nice if you say you're sorry. I know it. C'mon, we can tell her right now!" Katie started to turn, ready to bolt for the stairs, but Jillian's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist.

Her older sister shook her head hard, sending her dark hair bouncing. "Hold on there. He doesn't want to make any promises yet, so don't get Mary-Ellen's hopes up. That would make her more mad, right?"

Katie frowned. That did make sense. "I guess."

Jillian leaned in closer. "But I have an idea," she said softly. "What's something nice that Slappy can do for Mary-Ellen? How can he show her that he really wants to be friends? Does she like flowers? Or does she have a favorite candy?"

Katie nodded fiercely. "Oh, she _loves_ chocolate!" she replied - quickly making her voice soft in time. "She really likes Milky Way bars, Three Musketeers, Hershey Kisses - oh! And those Cookies 'n' Creme bars. They're her favorite."

"Sounds like she has a sweet tooth," Jillian said good-naturedly. "Thanks for the tip. But keep it a surprise for us, okay? He really wants this truce to work.

Katie moved her hand across her mouth like a zipper and threw away the invisible key.

"Thanks, Katie," Jillian smiled, patting her hand. She looked like she meant it. She then held up the plate of cookies. "Here, take one for Amanda and Mary-Ellen."

Katie grabbed two - and a third for herself - and started for the stairs. She hurried up as fast as she could, feeling a smile spread, her excitement growing with each step - which immediately popped when she stepped into the bedroom and saw Mary-Ellen in her chair, violet eyes watching her.

What kept you? Mary-Ellen asked.

"I was getting you some cookies," Katie replied quickly and shoved all three onto her lap.

* * *

Jillian pulled out her notebook and a pen and handed them to the dummy. "Start writing, Shakespeare."

Slappy made a face. "I might just puke," he grumbled and propped the notebook against his crossed leg.

"But she could be outta here by the end of the month," Jillian returned, sitting down on the bed beside him. "And this is easier than coughing up frogs."

"But not as much fun," he retorted, clicking open the pen. It was a simple plan. Pretend to want a truce. Gain Mary-Ellen's trust. Convince her that Slappy wanted to play with her. Then set up a rendezvous - and catch her moving on Dad's video camera.

Jillian laid the newly acquired Milky Way bar on the bedtable. Fortunately, she had enough left in her wallet to run to the store and buy a single piece of candy, managing to get home before Mom noticed she had violated the house arrest. However, if they were really going to lull Mary-Ellen into a false sense of security, Jillian had the feeling it would take a lot more sucking up, and for that she would need cash. Fast.

Slappy suddenly raised his blue eyes to meet hers. "So, after we get rid of what's-her-face, what's your plan then, sweetheart?"

Jillian leaned back on her hands and gave him a sweet smile. "Well, we still have to teach the girls a lesson, don't we?"

A grin appeared on his wooden face. "You're so much fun when you're spiteful."

She gave a small bow. "I try."

He giggled, turning back to the lined paper, and he tapped the pen against his cracked chin. "Hmm, what does one write to an insane piece of junk?"

"Probably not 'Dear, Insane Piece of Junk'," Jillian replied. "How about 'Dear, Mary-Ellen, Let's have a truce'?"

"Subtle," he answered dryly. "She's smarter than she looks, kid - not that that's saying much, but she'll smell a ruse. We have to lay convincing groundwork first if she's going to fall for a trap."

"'Dear Mary-Ellen, I'm sorry for the pranks'?"

"Too fake," Slappy replied.

Jillian rested her chin on the heel of her hand and thought about the little notes Mom sometimes left for each family member whenever she packed lunches, including the ones for Dad - and she felt a smirk spread. "'A sweet for my sweet'?" she suggested innocently.

"Gag!"

In the end, the note read as such:

 _To Mary-Ellen_

 _From Slappy_

"Short, sweet, and to the point," Slappy grinned, looking quite pleased with himself.

"You're quite the charmer," Jillian cracked.

"You would know," he returned with a cheeky wink. He tapped the note. "Look, it'll peak her curiosity without being threatening - and without bringing up my lunch. Manipulation is an art, my friend. Have you ever heard the amusing little anecdote about boiling a frog?"

Jillian winced. "No, but I have a feeling you're gonna tell me," she said flatly.

He snickered, obviously amused. "The idea is that if you try to throw a frog into a boiling pot of water, it'll just jump out again. However, if you put it in a cool pot and slo-o-owly increase the temperature, it'll just sit there, happy as a vampire in a coffin - even as the steam rises and bubbles form - until it's finally cooked alive."

Jillian suppressed a shudder. "Sick."

"I've never had an opportunity to try it myself - for obvious reasons," Slappy said, rapping his knuckles on his wooden head, "but my point is you gotta start small and work your way up."

She shook her head. "I'll take your word for it," she said, getting to her feet. She then got a piece of tape from Dad's desk in the master bedroom and stuck the note on the chocolate bar, leaving it outside the twins' door for them to find.

When she came back, Slappy had a funny look on his cracked face. "The piece of paper _is_ safe, right?"

She nodded. "I hid it real good. If she tries to put you to sleep, I'll come running."

He furrowed his dark brow. "You know," he said slowly, "we don't really have to bother with all these shenanigans. If we find out which twin she's connected to - "

The phone rang then, cutting him off, and Jillian quickly crossed the room to answer it. "Hello?"

"Jillian, guess what!" she heard Harrison say. "I got my dummy! I can do the show!"

* * *

Harrison was barely in the front door before he was hauling his prize out of his backpack and straightening his little overalls with an almost tender look. "Can you believe my uncle had this in his attic all these years?"

"Always the last place you look," Jillian cracked, surveying the little dummy, who Harrison had dubbed Maxie. Despite his age, he looked in good condition. He had large buck teeth sticking out of a big, goofy smile. His blank brown eyes had a kind to look to them, though not entirely intelligent - in short, he was going to be the perfect target for Slappy's insults. "Is that the uncle with all the puppets?" she asked.

"Yep," Harrison replied proudly as he sat down on the living-room couch, positioning his dummy on his knee. "Back in college he was in this program that visited kids in hospitals. He used to let me play with all his puppets when I was little, but I never knew he had a ventriloquist act too."

"Live and learn."

"It's just as well," he returned. "Jimmy O'James turned out to be a dead end."

Jillian looked at him sharply. "You went all the way out there by yourself?" she demanded, planting her hands on her hips. The address he had shown her was clear on the other side of town!

He shrugged, unperturbed. "There was no school. Mom was at work, and Grandma was napping - and I needed a dummy. But when I got out there, the place was cleared out. All I found were some spare dummy parts and this weird story the ventriloquist was writing. Then the neighbor showed up, and he said Jimmy O'James was out on tour and had left without saying when he'd be back." Harrison shook his head. "It was a two-hour ride both ways on my bike. I had a flat tire by the end of it."

"Serves you right," she scolded. "You could've been hurt, and nobody would've known where you were." However, even as she glared at her shrugging friend, Jillian considered his words. That last time she had seen Jimmy O'James, he had been coming out of The Magic Place - and now he had skipped town? She could see his face again, as vivid as before, as he uttered his warning - and she could see the look in Slappy's blazing eyes as he had yanked her toward him by her shirt collar...

...But then another image appeared in her mind: Slappy sitting on her bed, staring blankly in front of him with lifeless eyes - and Petey coming out of his jaws - and the little kids clawing at their soap-filled eyes - and the high flames from the stove - and the lifeless doll that could speak without moving her mouth. Jillian gritted her teeth and finally shook her head. "The ventriloquist was pretty weird, don't you think?" she said at last.

"That's what the neighbor said," Harrison replied with a laugh, turning his attention away from shifting Maxie's eyes side to side. "At least I got my dummy. Good thing your parents are still letting us do the show."

"Well, we _are_ hosting the party in our basement," she replied. Mom always respected her promises - except when it came to punishing the twins - so Eddie Simkin was going to get the best party the Zinmans could throw. "And it'll be nice to _finally_ get paid," she murmured - and then sat down beside him. "Oh, hey, that reminds me," she began carefully. "Could you loan me five bucks? I'll pay you back after the party."

He quirked an eyebrow. "What do you wanna buy?"

"A little something nice - for a nice revenge," she replied with a grin. At his look, she added, "I'll explain later." Once she caught Mary-Ellen on video tape.

She saw he was not completely satisfied with her answer, but he pulled out his wallet anyway. "Just don't go too far, Jillian," he said.

"I won't," she promised, tucking the green bill into her jeans pocket. It was not a real lie. Frankly, she did not think she could go far enough.

When she went into her room to grab Slappy for rehearsal, the dummy was holding a note. "One of the twerps dropped this off," he reported and held it up for her to read.

 _Thanks, sweetie_.

 _Sweetie?_ She glanced at the dummy. "Think she really bought it?"

"Time will tell," he replied darkly, crumbling the paper in his tight fist.

* * *

Wednesday morning, they discovered a note had been slipped under the door.

 _Darling, do have your human bring me her books._

 _I am positively bored without the literature you so kindly relieved me of._

 _Mary-Ellen_

"'Your human'?" Jillian repeated with a scowl. "What am I, your pet?"

"Depends. Can you do any tricks?" he cracked, but his grin faded as he studied the note. "She's testing us," he surmised.

"Well, if we want to get rid of her, we have to play along," Jillian replied and started grabbing books from the two shelves - and she saw Slappy frown when she reached for the _Animorphs_. "It's not forever," she assured him, "and weren't you the one who said we had to invite her to Dairy Queen if we want our revenge to work?"

"I also said I'd still help you with the birthday party," he shot back. "I _am_ capable of changing my mind." Still, in the end, she talked him into parting with the collection, promising to bring home all she could of the series from the library.

That afternoon Jillian spotted a patch of yellow flowers on the ride home from school, still thriving in the unusual warm weather. She picked a quick bouquet, careful not to antagonize the bees buzzing about, already harvesting for the eventual frost. She raided the wrapping-paper shelf in the basement for a pretty ribbon and tied a little bow around the flowers - and it was through that she stumbled upon the door hanger from last Christmas, the one with jingle bells that clang at the slightest breath, which she promptly smuggled upstairs to her room.

She then grabbed the bag of Hershey kisses she had bought earlier - making a mental note to ask Harrison for another five - and gave both the chocolate and the bouquet to Katie to deliver to Mary-Ellen, compliments of Slappy.

Thursday morning, they found another note from Mary-Ellen.

 _Dearest, do have the girl bring me her cassette collection so that I might have some amusement this dreary day._

 _Though it can't compare to the melodious sound of your voice._

 _Mary-Ellen_

"Gag," Jillian muttered, crinkling the note before tossing it into her waste basket like a two-point shot.

"I do sound awesome though," Slappy rasped jokingly - well, it sounded more half-jokingly, Jillian thought as she pulled out the bin with all her cassettes. Slappy picked out a few of his favorites first (though he insisted they were just the "least worst" of the bunch), and she handed the bin over to Katie to deliver before she headed to school.

That afternoon, Jillian went through the wrapping paper again and selected a cream pattern and a shiny, glittering bow - pink, the doll's favorite color as Katie had so helpfully reported - and made a pretty present out of the Cookies 'n' Creme bar she had bought on the way home from school. Slappy used his best handwriting and carefully wrote a note.

 _See you at the show._

 _Wear the white dress._

Jillian frowned. "White dress? What does that mean?"

"Trust me. It'll work," he snickered. "Lonely chicks dig that kinda romantic stuff."

"How would you know?" she replied flatly.

A teasing smile crossed his red lips. "Jealous?"

"Don't be gross," she scolded, causing him to throw back his head and laugh.

It certainly must have worked because the next morning they found a note that had been slipped under the door. It had been written in big, pink letters.

 _See you there, sweetie_.

The "i" was dotted with a little heart.

"Looks like you got a date," Jillian said.

"Not exactly my dream girl," he said flatly.

"But if this works, she might agree to meet you after the show. She could be out of here by Saturday." So close. So close. "We have to make sure our act is really good, really funny," she insisted.

"I'm involved. It'll be awesome," Slappy smirked.

She pointed a stern finger at him. "And you can't keep insulting Harrison during rehearsal."

He covered his chest, a wounded look on his wooden face. "When I called that ape a stupid, simpering meatball, I meant it as a term of _affection_!" he protested. "Besides, _he_ thought it was funny, didn't he?"

Of course, he had. Harrison loved it when Slappy was rude, and he kept wanting to add the needling remarks to their ever growing script. The more he laughed, the more the dummy threw at him as if he were playing darts with an unperturbed target - almost like he was trying to see how much he could get away with. Still, Jillian had to admit, Slappy had been less hostile this past week - maybe because Harrison no longer tried to grab him.

"You still have to put your best foot forward, bucko," she warned. "Put on a show Mary-Ellen won't ever forget."

"Do I ever do any other kind?" Slappy returned. "Meanwhile, you can tell Harrison he shouldn't move his lips so much."

"Well, unlike me, _he's_ doing all the work," she returned. "At least Mary-Ellen seems to be looking forward to it. That's a point for us." She glanced again at the note and the little, pink heart in _sweetie_ \- seriously, why "sweetie"? - and despite the involuntary wince that crossed her face, she could not resist singing, " _Mary-Ellen and Slappy, sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-_ "

"Oh, _shut up_!"

* * *

That night after dinner, she was interrupted from her homework by a knock on her door. Unsurprisingly, it was the twins.

"What?"

The girls exchanged uneasy glances - and stepped around her, and both strode up to the dummy, who removed his headphones. He gave the girls an all-too-sweet smile, and Jillian saw them slow their pace, clutching each other's hand. Finally, Katie shoved a slip of paper onto the desk beside him, and both girls turned and fled.

"Chatty bunch, aren't they?" he snickered as he picked the paper up and unfolded it - and promptly frowned.

Jillian crossed the room. "Another love note?"

Slappy did not reply right away. His blue eyes narrowed, scanning the page. "Huh."

"What?" she questioned, sitting down beside him.

He looked up, a thoughtful expression on his face. "How committed are you to this little plan, sweetheart? I mean, really?"

"Why? What did she write?"

He laid the note in his lap, leaning his head against his hand. "I mean, how far are you willing to go to tell the Barbie Dud you're not trying to lure her into a trap?"

Jillian frowned. "Is she asking us to jump off a cliff?"

Slappy did not respond, his blue eyes just swept across her frame as if sizing her up.

She folded her arms. "She set the house on fire, put soap in the pie, and almost hurt Petey." _And you_. "I'd do just about anything."

He nodded slowly, looking satisfied with her answer. "Okay, second question. How attached are you to your Bugs Bunny videos?"

* * *

Jillian's collection of _Looney Tunes_ shorts took up a shelf in the basement. She had started getting them as presents when she was four, but several she had bought with her own money over the years, collected from bargain bins and second-hand stores. A few were so old and had been played so often that she had to use the cleaning VHS tape first to watch them. Now, she carefully hauled them out, neatly piling them together. It was a little tricky, but she managed to gather them into a single stack of videos and to take them up two flights of steps without dropping one.

 _My darling, please have the girl bring up her rabbit tapes. They would be a fine addition to my video collection._

Darling. Sweetie. Dearest.

 _Gag me with a spoon_. She gritted her teeth and pressed on. Not that the doll could actually _watch_ these since Dad took the T.V. set out of the twins' room, but at least Jillian would be getting them back in a few days, she told herself darkly. Mary-Ellen could enjoy them to her heart's content - while she still could.

Fortunately, Mom was occupied in the den, and Jillian was able to sneak her cargo upstairs without detection. When she came into the twins' room, the girls were standing on either side of the doll. She could not help but notice that Katie had a strange little expression on her face as she stood awkwardly, her arms behind her back.

"Here, you go," she said, keeping her voice even. She stepped toward the bookshelf to add them to the rest of the twin's movies, but Amanda shook her head.

"Mary-Ellen says put them on the rug," she said softly, and Jillian followed her gaze to where her cassette tapes had been laid out in a pile.

Jillian bit back her comment on seeing her property so carelessly out and laid the videos tapes next to it. "Enjoy."

"Mary-Ellen says she will," Katie replied, her squeaky voice sounding strange, and she pulled her hands out from behind her back - and then Jillian saw the baseball bat. Before Jillian could even gasp, Katie raised the bat above her head and brought it crashing down onto the top tape, sending black chunks of plastic flying out.

Jillian finally found her voice. "What are you doing?" she shrieked, grabbing her sister's arm. "Are you crazy?!"

Katie turned to her, and for a brief moment, Jillian saw an unhappy look in her little eyes - but then they hardened. "You gave them to Mary-Ellen," Katie reminded her, "so they're hers now."

"Her movies, her rules," Amanda added.

Jillian sputtered, staring.

 _Sell it! Sell it!_ a part of her brain screamed at her. "Fine. They're hers," she said tightly.

Katie raised the bat again and swung it hard.

It took all of Jillian's strength to turn on her heel and walk calmly into the hall - even as the sound of cracking tapes echoed in the hall, audible over the pounding in her ears.

 _Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!_

"Jillian?" Amanda called after her.

She stopped in her trek and turned. "Yes?" she replied, feeling her throat tighten.

Her little sister squinted hard at her. "Mary-Ellen says next time it'll be your head if you ever touch her again."

Jillian gritted her teeth and pushed open her bedroom door.

That night she made sure to hang up the jingling Christmas door hanger.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Advice is appreciated.


	9. Chapter 9

Mom was frantic all Saturday morning, making sure the basement and first floor were tidy for the birthday guests and the parents, directing Dad to move the furniture in the rec room around, and running to the store after she dropped the last three eggs she had saved for the birthday cake. Whenever she got that frazzled, everyone knew to keep their mouth shut and try to look busy. As such, when Harrison came by that afternoon, he did not even bat an eye when she set him to work alongside Jillian.

"You kids start hanging up streamers and fill the piñata," Mom ordered as she straightened the den. Jillian noticed that several strands of her dark hair had come loose from her bun, but she decided against pointing it out as her mother continued, "Dad set up the food table already, so I need you to take the party trays down too. Leave enough room for the pizza when it comes."

"She sounds tense," Harrison whispered as Jillian led him to the hall closet where Dad had stashed the party supplies Mrs. Simkin had dropped off.

"Mom's been racing around all day," Jillian replied quietly. "Mrs. Simkin's asked her to decorate the cake, hang decorations, choose songs for the games, and everything. Mom says she's surprised Mrs. Simkin didn't ask her to pick out Eddie's birthday present for her."

"Kid's gonna need a shrink when he grows up," Harrison snickered softly.

"That's what Dad said," Jillian replied - and then her face fell. "She's still mad that the kitchen hasn't been fixed yet," she sighed. "She's hung up bed sheets over the kitchen doors so that the other parents won't see the stove."

Harrison touched her arm. "Hey, just focus on the show," he told her. "If we do enough parties, we'll make so much money that we can just _buy_ her a whole new kitchen. Then she won't be mad at you anymore."

"I hope so," she exhaled again, clenching her teeth. Yet another reason why today had to be perfect. "At least the girls have been behaving - mostly," she added. The twins had spent the morning at Stevie's house for play rehearsal, and now she could hear them in the kitchen sweeping, arguing over whose turn it was to hold the dustpan, insisting the sweeper missed a spot, and threatening to hit the other with the broom if she did not shut her mouth - and it took Jillian all her strength to keep the distaste off her face. Just the sound of them made her hands ball into tight fists. Earlier, she had passed by the twins' room and actually heard a trio of voices humming a happy tune from within - and it had taken her a moment to realize that the song was from her destroyed Hanson cassette.

Harrison started to grab the bags of decorations when Jillian stopped. "Hang on, I gotta get Slappy from my room."

Harrison quirked an eyebrow. "Why is he upstairs and not in the basement with Maxie?"

Jillian gave a good-natured laugh. "I was practicing with him. Duh."

"If you start having tea parties with him, I'm outta here," he cracked as she headed upstairs.

* * *

Slappy looked up from his library book as she came in, and he cocked his head to the side. "Something troubling you, doll face?"

She gave him a wry smile as she crossed the room. "Well, three psychos live down the hall, and Mom's going crazy - but other than that I'm fine," she said dryly.

"Good, for a second I was worried," he returned, laying his book down. "Not too late for to think up a Plan B."

She shook her head. "No, Mom and Dad need to know. This is the only way they'll believe me - but I can't even _think_ about what that doll did to my tapes without wanting to scream."

She took a deep breath and held it. So much of this facade depended on her keeping it together - but Mary-Ellen and the twins were not making it easy for her. After breakfast, Jillian had been put to work icing freshly baked cupcakes. She had left them on the table, stopping a moment to grab some more sprinkles from Mom's cooking supplies - and sat right on a cupcake that had been placed on her chair, covering her clean jeans in a mess of frosting and crumbs. It had been difficult to keep from telling Mom the truth when she came by later and demanded to know why one cupcake was missing, but Jillian had to take the fall and say she dropped it, making her mother even more upset with her.

"At least it'll be over soon," she added darkly.

"We'll knock 'em dead, sweetheart," Slappy said pleasantly, taking her hand to give it a light pat before he turned it over, glancing down at her palm. "Hmm, you have a good lifeline," he joked. "I see many pranks and mischief in your future. Also, you will have a handsome husband and children. Four, I think. For starters."

"Gag," she said, rolling her eyes as she pulled her hand away. She glanced at the cup on the windowsill that held a pink flower in water. She would get Katie to deliver it after the show with the note asking for the doll to meet Slappy. It would be the very last gift they would ever give that doll - she hoped. She turned back to the dummy. "Are we forgetting anything?"

A smirk appeared on his cracked face. "A kiss for good luck?"

"Don't be gross," she sniffed coolly, trying to keep her face straight - even as she felt her skin grow hot.

His blue eyes glittered. "What's so gross about it?" he demanded teasingly. He tapped his chipped mouth. "I'll have you know there are My Size Barbies out there that _dream_ of these lips."

"And I'm not one of them," she retorted.

He leaned forward a little, his red smile only widening. "What's your problem, Jillian? You afraid you're gonna hate it? Or _love_ it?"

Her frown deepened. "We can do the show with just Maxie, you know," she warned. _He's just joking. He's just joking_.

True to form, Slappy giggled.

* * *

Almost an hour later, the basement floor was covered with a rainbow of balloons. Blue and green streamers were strung across the ceiling (the same color as the dinosaur birthday cake), and the poster for "Pin the Tail on the Stegosaurus" had been hung in place of Dad's dart board (which had been safely stashed out of reach). Jillian gave a sweeping glance across the rec room, trying to spot anything that the twins could remotely tamper with. She was not going to forget to double-check anything with those three terrors in the same building.

"At least we have the home advantage this time," Jillian said darkly as she hid the T-Rex piñata high on the top shelf of the workshop closet.

"That reminds me. Where did you put our bag of tricks?" Harrison asked, looking up from practicing with Maxie's controls. He had pulled down the beaten-up suitcase with his new dummy from the closet and now sat on the workbench with the puppet on his knee. "I was telling my cousin about the squirting pie pan, and he was interested in it."

"He can have it," she said darkly. "I stuffed that junk in my closet - with all of my circus posters." She leaned against the tool table, surveying the workshop. The door would be closed during the party, so at least that was one less room to worry about - in theory. "The last thing we need today is the twerps putting worms in the piñata," she added nastily.

"Not a bad idea though," Harrison remarked. "When's their birthday again?"

"February Twenty-first."

"Plenty of time to plan," he chuckled.

Despite her tense mood, an odd feeling swept over her. "If I'm still getting good ideas," she murmured, glancing at the little blue-eyed dummy on the workbench, who stared blankly back at her. ...Would Slappy still be living with her by then?

On an impulse, she stepped over to sit between her two friends, mulling that over in her mind. Slappy had not actually said about what he would do once their deal was over. Sure, he needed her to be alive, but would he still be with her when she was thirty? Fifty? Eighty? Would he go with her when she went off to college? Or got married? Or would she just get a postcard from him every now and then until she finally died, and he went back to sleep?

Harrison, meanwhile, had already returned his attention to Maxie. " _My mama dun told me, 'Bring home something for dinner_ ,'" he made the dummy sing cheerfully, forcing Jillian to abandon her glum thoughts for the moment. Harrison had experimented all week with different voices and had finally settled on one like Beaky Buzzard.

"Saw your lips move," Jillian pointed out.

Harrison winced. "How do you make the 'B' and 'M' sounds, Jillian?"

"Talent," she replied as she adjusted Slappy's bowtie. She gave the dummy a wink, which he discreetly returned. "I liked your Yoda voice better," Jillian added over her shoulder teasingly.

"That wasn't Yoda. That was Grover," Maxie returned cheekily.

Jillian shook her head. "Your lips moved on the 'V'."

"I'm try-ing!" Harrison pretended to whine as he worked Maxie's controls to blink his brown eyes. "Well, maybe they'll be so busy looking at the dummies to notice me."

"I don't think anyone will be able to stop looking at those teeth," Jillian laughed, gesturing towards the little puppet's mouth.

"I was made from beaverwood," Harrison made Maxie reply good-naturedly before the boy grimaced. "Seriously, how do you do the 'B' sounds, Jillian?"

Before Jillian could reply, she heard the basement door creak open, and Mom's voice called downstairs, "Jillian, are you down there? What are you doing?" She sounded agitated.

"Rehearsing!" she called back.

"Well, Mrs. Simkin and Eddie just arrived," Mom returned, "and this food isn't gonna carry itself down."

"Duty calls," she told Harrison. The boy promptly set Maxie down beside Slappy and headed for the stairs while Jillian pretended to straighten her little friend's checked jacket. "Be back in a flash," she whispered.

"I'll be counting the minutes, doll," he winked.

* * *

Katie was waiting for them at the top of the steps. "Break a leg, guys!" she beamed. "Mary-Ellen can't wait to see the show."

Jillian's mouth twitched, but she forced a grin at the last moment. "Thanks."

Harrison gave Katie a strained smile, and Jillian could see his easygoing demeanor start to dissolve. "I don't think your mom is gonna let you bring toys to a birthday party, kiddo."

"Mary-Ellen is _not_ a toy," Katie insisted, "and she really wants to see Slappy."

Harrison snickered. "What? She gots a crush on him?"

"Don't even joke," Jillian muttered, stepping toward the kitchen.

Harrison reached around her and grabbed the bed-sheet curtain, holding it for both girls to duck through. Amanda was at the table daintily nibbling on barbecue chips; Jillian could tell from the doorway that she had been sampling Mom's floral perfumes. Mary-Ellen was in the chair beside her, staring blankly ahead. Jillian noticed they were both decked in party frocks, frilly pink for Amanda, lacey white for the doll. Some effort had obviously been made to tame Mary-Ellen's mop-yarn hair, and a white bow sat atop her frizzy head, but Jillian thought she still looked ridiculous.

Amanda turned her head as Jillian entered. "What's up, doc?" she asked innocently.

Jillian clenched her teeth - but she was saved as the other bed sheet rose then, and Mom poked her head in from the dining room. She pointed to the assortment of fruit and chips. "Take these down quick, and come back for the birthday presents," she told Jillian and Harrison. "The guests will be arriving soon, and I'll need you kids to help supervise. Katie, Amanda, you can help carry too."

"What about the birthday cake?" Jillian asked, gesturing to the blue-and-green creation in the middle of the kitchen table. Mom had used food dye to draw a smiling brontosaurus on the icing.

"Leave it up here for now," her mother returned. "I don't want it to get damaged by any little fingers wanting to sneak a taste." After the hour and a half Mom had spent on it, Jillian was not surprised.

As Mom went back into the hall to speak with Mrs. Simkin, Harrison cracked his knuckles. "Well, let's boogie," he said and started grabbing a bowl of grapes.

Jillian followed suit, doing her best not to look at her sisters or the doll as the twins bustled about her, grabbing the plastic forks and paper cups. Harrison managed to balance quite a few plates on his thick arms, and he used his shoulder to hold open the bed sheet for Jillian, who was already carrying three large bowls.

\- And that was when she felt Amanda's foot connect with her own, causing her to trip.

She let out a yelp, and the bowls of cheese curls and crackerjacks went flying, and she landed facedown on the hard floor. "Oww!"

"What happened?" she heard Mom's distant cry, and in a moment her mother charged past Harrison back into the kitchen. Jillian sucked in air through her teeth, biting down on her groan of pain as Mom leaped over the mess, bending to help her up.

"It was an accident!" Amanda shrieked fearfully, fleeing to hide behind Mary-Ellen's chair.

Mom's gray eyes instantly narrowed. "Amanda, put that doll upstairs," she ordered. "It's rude to bring toys to a birthday party."

Amanda's little jaw dropped. "But Mary-Ellen wants to see Slappy's show!" she cried frantically.

"She's been looking forward it!" Katie wailed on the other side of the table.

"I-It's okay," Jillian said tightly, rubbing her reddened forearms even as she had the sudden urge to smack that doll's head against the table. "She's not... hurting anyone. Let her 'watch' the show, Mom."

"Out of the question," Mom returned sharply. "This is Eddie's day, and the focus should be on him and the party, not playing with dolls. Take Mary-Ellen upstairs," she ordered, turning back to Amanda.

Amanda looked helplessly at the doll. "B-But - "

" _Now_ , Amanda Grace."

A miserable look crossed her little face, and she slowly picked up the doll and carried her over her shoulder, shuffling toward the door.

" _Now_ ," Mom repeated, "or you'll have to spend the entire party in your room, and you won't get cake."

Amanda immediately broke into a run, pushing past Harrison and out of sight.

Jillian dusted the knees of her blue jeans. _Now, what?_

However, she did not have long to dwell on it because Mom turned to her and Katie then. "Now, listen, I want no trouble today, girls," she warned. "No fighting. No tricks. Nothing. Today is all about Eddie, and you're not going to ruin it for him with your bickering. If any one of you acts up, all three of you are going to be in trouble. Understood?"

Both girls nodded obediently, but Jillian clenched her teeth as her mother left again, silencing Mrs. Simkin's distant questions with assurances that everything was alright.

 _Sure, everything's just FINE_ , Jillian thought bitterly.

"Need help cleaning up?" Harrison asked, still holding his cargo.

Jillian shook her head. "Nah, I got it. You take your stuff down." As the bed sheet dropped again, she stepped over the cheese curls and grabbed the kitchen broom - and suddenly felt a little hand touch her own.

"Are you okay, Jillian?" Katie asked.

"I'm fine," she said through her teeth, but she caught herself before she could give into the impulse to smack her sister's hand away. She flashed a quick smile. "Nothing injured but my pride."

Katie's little eyes grew wide. "What are we gonna do?" she squeaked. "Mary-Ellen's not gonna be happy!"

 _Good_ , Jillian thought, rubbing her still smarting arms, but she forced herself to bite her cheek. "Don't worry," she said slowly, getting an idea. "When Mom goes next door to the grown-up's party, you can sneak her down. We'll do the show then."

Katie's eyes lit up. "Great idea! I'll go tell her!"

 _Enjoy it while you can, Mary-Ellen_ , Jillian thought as her little sister disappeared, and she started to sweep.

She had dumped the last of the mess into the trash by the time Harrison came back upstairs. "Your sisters are something else," he said, shaking his head.

"Tell me about it," she muttered. "C'mon, we still got stuff to take down - " but she did not get to finish because it was then the doorbell rang. Three of the birthday guests had arrived, and Mom soon called the two of them into the living room to help keep them corralled.

* * *

Including Eddie and the twins, there was a grand total of fifteen kids, and for almost half an hour the first floor of the Zinman house was a grand flood of six-year-olds wrestling, running, hopping, skipping, climbing, giggling, and shrieking before Mom finally ushered everyone down into the basement, charging Jillian and Harrison with carrying the rest of the food and the birthday presents.

"Man, the parents couldn't _wait_ to dump them here," Harrison snickered, balancing three bowls of chip dip in his thick arms.

"Can you blame them?" she cracked. Even from the kitchen she could hear the muffled noise of the party guests, almost as loud as Dad's table saw. "I'm never having kids," Jillian declared as she grabbed a bowl of assorted candies (and pocketed a few Hershey Kisses for herself) and stacked it atop the pile of presents she was carefully gathering. "I might not get married just so that I don't accidentally have one."

Harrison smirked. "Nah, you know you're gonna end up with twelve," he teased, grabbing a big bottle of Coke. "All of them twins like your sisters. I hear that runs in families."

"Bite your tongue!" she retorted. She shifted the presents to one arm and poked his shoulder. "You know, if I had twelve kids, I'd make _you_ babysit, Uncle Harrison."

Harrison clutched the soda to his chest like a life preserver. "The horror!" he cried. "But I wouldn't be able to. I'll be too busy working for the Muppets when I grow up."

"You can always introduce them to Kermit," Jillian returned. "Or you could take them to Sesame Street. I can totally see you in the Big Bird costume."

"No way. It's the Snuffleupagus or nothing!" he declared with a laugh - and then his dark eyes suddenly changed. "What about you? What are you gonna do now that you don't want to be a clown anymore?"

She had not given it much thought. For the past five years, she had dreamed of being a clown. When she was younger, she would be glued to the television whenever _The Big Comfy Couch_ came on and would not move an inch until the end credits. Her parents would send her to summer camps that offered a "circus week" theme, and she had accumulated quite a collection of clown toys before she eventually outgrew dolls. Her whole family would even tease her about how she would marry a circus performer when she grew up and raise a bunch of little clowns. But now... she could not feel even a spark of enthusiasm.

"I still want to make money doing parties," she said at last, giving a dismissive shrug. "Maybe I can be a magician next."

Harrison gave her an incredulous look. "But you're _awesome_ at ventriloquism," he returned. "You should stick with it."

 _Except it's not me doing the talking_ , she thought glumly. All she did was keep her hand inside Slappy's back while the dummy threw insult after insult at Maxie (and Harrison), and that got boring after a while. At least when she was a clown, she was the one jumping around and acting silly.

Still, she had to admit that it had been fun coming up with a script - what little she had contributed - and there was some thrill in being the only one to know that the dummy was alive. Even though his insults could be groan-inducing, Slappy did manage to pull off a few zingers that made her giggle. Maybe if they could change the routine down the line so that the ventriloquists had something to say, it might be pretty enjoyable.

"I guess I _sorta_ like working with Slappy," she said slowly, "even if I'll always be the straight man to his banana."

Harrison gave her a grin. "You're really good with him. I can _almost_ believe he's alive." He chuckled. "You know, it's kinda like this weird story Jimmy O'James was writing in his diary. I'll have to show it to you sometime. It's a hoot."

She looked at him sharply. "You took it from his _house_?"

He held up his hands - as best as he could with his burden. "By mistake! When the neighbor showed up in the house, I panicked and stuffed it in my pocket. I got all the way home before I realized I still had it." He shrugged. "But it's really funny. He was writing about how Slappy was brought to life by some toy maker, and what it was like to live with a talking dummy - and all the rude stuff Slappy said to him. I'll bring it over tomorrow if you want."

She hesitated - and gave a noncommittal shrug in response.

Harrison tilted his head to the side, and Jillian could see a spark appear in his dark eyes. "You know, since my hand won't fit inside him, why don't I just give him to you?"

She stared. "Really?"

"Sure. Why not? You already play with him a lot," he teased. "And _you_ said you were too old for dolls."

She found herself beaming. "Wow, thanks!" she cried, choosing to ignore the crack as a flood of relief swept through her. That took a load off her mind!

As Harrison held the bed-sheet curtain open for her, Jillian almost skipped to the basement. She considered how Slappy would respond if she told him he was her property now, and she chuckled at the thought.

At least until she opened the basement door.

And heard the screaming.

* * *

" _Let go! Let go!_ " a little boy was howling in pain. " _Make him stop! He won't let go!_ "

In an instant Jillian started down, dumping the birthday presents and chocolate on the steps, and soon got a view of the group of kids in Dad's workshop gathered around the workbench. Mom was in the midst of them, pulling on the arm of the screaming, red-faced child. Jillian pushed her way through the spectators to see Slappy on his side, staring glassily in front of him, his face frozen in his eternal smile - and his hard fingers clenching the child's whiten hand.

" _He's gonna break my hand!_ " the boy shrieked.

Jillian made a grab for the wooden wrist. "Stop it!" she screeched. "Let go!" She gave a great tug, and, finally, the stiff fingers released the soft paw, and the little boy tumbled backwards into Mom.

Big, fat tears rolled down his red face. "Oww! He br-broke m-my hand!" he wailed. Kids were murmuring around them, and one little girl began to cry.

"Let me see," Mom soothed in a strained voice, looking the swollen fingers over. "No, no. It's not broken. You're okay, sweetie. You're okay. We'll put ice on it and get your mommy, okay?" Her eyes then shot to Jillian. "Put that thing away," she said, jerking her head toward the dummy.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Z.!" Jillian heard Harrison gasp as he came up behind her. "Slappy's still broken. The same thing happened to Jillian last week."

Mom frowned, and Jillian could see she was trying to keep her temper. "We'll talk about this later," she said, "but you two shouldn't have left the workshop door open." She grabbed the child by the uninjured hand and ushered him upstairs to put ice on his swollen fingers.

Harrison quickly started to shoo the other kids back into the rec room as Jillian took Slappy to the nearest corner and pretended to check his controls.

"What were you _thinking_?" she hissed. "That was a rotten thing to do!"

He did not look at her right away, but when he finally tilted his wooden head, she saw cold fury in his stare. "What kept you?" he demanded in a soft rasp. "I had to fend off those germ-ridden little freaks by myself."

All at once her burning anger was replaced with a deep chill. Oh, boy... "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "We were busy getting the little kids settled, and then Mom told us to grab the food and stuff, and Harrison and I were talking, and then - "

His wooden lips immediately curled into a sneer, showing his painted teeth. "Oh, yes, _Harrison_ ," he drawled. "Dear, sweet _Harrison_. I'm sorry. I forgot how _fascinating_ he is. How _ever_ did you tear yourself from his side?"

"It wasn't just Harrison," she protested, still in a whisper. "Mom needed me to help her. I couldn't say no - "

He just looked away, his little body trembling in her arms.

Jillian swallowed dryly and tried to think of a diplomatic response. "I'm sorry, Slappy," she said in his ear. "I goofed up. Please, forgive me."

His jaw clicked. "I'll have to think about it."

She squeezed his shoulder. "Look, I'll make it up to you. Somehow."

He raised his head again, but his eyes were still hard. "I got drool on my clothes, Jillian. What did you have in mind?"

Jillian's mind began to race for a solution. "Maybe I could take you somewhere," she suggested lamely. "Put you in my backpack, and ride my bike to the park? There's a patch of woods there. No one would see you if you wanted to stretch your legs. We could have a picnic or something. Bring the checkerboard or Uno cards. We'll have fun."

"I don't like picnics," he sniffed. Then an ugly smirk appeared. "But I have a better idea," he said sweetly - a little too sweetly - as his hand came up and stroked her hanging black tresses.

Suddenly, a balloon popped, and Jillian whirled around to see through the workshop door a blond boy laughing as a little girl with red braids started to cry. She saw Harrison bolt forward to calm her down, but then a shoving match broke out when the giggling prankster got hit by the girl's brother.

"Jillian, help!"

Leaving Slappy on the bench, she dove into the fray - even as her heart thudded hard in her chest.

* * *

Under her parents' supervision, the kids played freeze dance, limbo, and musical chairs. Prizes were given out - and fought over. They danced the Electric Slide, the Bunny Hop, and the Chicken Dance. When they played "Pin the Tail on the Stegosaurus", one girl cried because her tail came nowhere close to the dinosaur - or even touched the poster. Then Katie unearthed Jillian's old soccer ball and started a game of catch with half of the kids.

Finally, Jillian tapped her mother's shoulder.

"If you and Dad wanna pop over to the party next door, Harrison and I can watch them," she offered. "We're going to do our show to keep them quiet."

Mom turned to her. "Do you feel you two can handle all this?"

"No big," Jillian replied even as the soccer ball zipped past her head and almost upset several food trays.

As Mom organized the kids into rows on the rec-room floor, Jillian strode over to Katie and grabbed her elbow. "Go get Mary-Ellen," she whispered, and she slipped one of the chocolate Kisses from her pocket into her sister's palm.

Katie's eyes lit up, and she jerked a nod before bolting away.

"It's my birthday!" Jillian heard Eddie declare, pushing his way to the front. "So, I get the best seat." He plopped on the floor in front of the tall stools.

Once the kids were settled, Mom and Dad slipped upstairs, and Jillian quickly jogged into the workshop where Harrison had already taken Maxie from the top shelf. The large boy grabbed Slappy by the collar of his sport jacket, passing him over. She hoisted the dummy onto her hip and gently placed her hand against his back as if she were testing his controls. "You okay?" she asked softly.

He tilted his head up, and his smile stretched. " _I'm_ fine, Jillian. Are you?"

"Mary-Ellen is gonna be watching," she reminded him quietly. "We make this work and get her on camera, she'll be gone forever."

Slappy chuckled. "Oh, don't worry about _Mary-Ellen_ , my dear," he said sweetly. "If this doesn't work, I already have a Plan B."

She wanted to ask him what he meant, but he drooped his head to the side, staring lifelessly in front of him.

* * *

The kids cheered as they strode to the two tall stools in front of the video cabinet. As Jillian draped Slappy's flimsy legs over her lap, she saw Katie and Amanda quietly slip in the back. Jillian took a deep breath and gently slipped her hand through the folds of Slappy's jacket, forming a fist to keep from touching his insides, and the act began.

Harrison turned Maxie's head to address Slappy. "Duh, hi, there, Slappy. My name is Maxie. I hear you're pretty funny."

"Really? I hear you're pretty stupid," Slappy replied, causing a burst of laughter from the audience. As usual, he used his Jillian impression.

Maxie blinked his eyes a few times. "I don't get it," he said as soon as the kids quieted down.

"Looks like you don't got much," Slappy returned. "I'd give you a nasty look, but you already got one!"

A few giggles erupted, though Jillian glanced down and saw Eddie Simkin make a face. Still, she slowly let out the breath she had been holding, forcing herself to relax.

"So, what do you want?" Slappy drawled.

"Duh, I hear you're the funniest dummy on earth," Maxie declared. "I wanna be funny too."

"Funny like your face?" Laughter from the kids. "I don't wanna say you're ugly, Maxie - but you're ugly. You're so ugly, you have to trick-or-treat by phone!" More giggles - but Eddie Simkin grimaced again. "Let's hear what you got, dummy."

Maxie wiggled and cleared his throat. "Dum, okay, okay. Duh…" Harrison raised the dummy's little hand so that he could scratch his brown head. "Duh, why did the skeleton go to the movie theaters alone?"

Slappy tilted his cracked head. "Because Harrison's mother spent the night in the pound?"

Jillian froze.

Harrison's dark brow shot high in the air, but he quickly got control of himself. "Duuuuh, nope! Because he had no BODY to go with him!"

Although Maxie was supposed to say stupid jokes, a few of the six-year-olds still liked the pun and began to chuckle, but Slappy leaned forward, squinting his blue eyes. "I saw your lips move, Harrison," he remarked.

Harrison visibly swallowed. "Uh, thanks, Slappy," he chuckled uncertainly, glancing again at Jillian. He cleared his throat, adjusting his hold on Maxie, and he quickly continued in his goofy voice, "So, Slappy, did you hear about the hungry clock?"

"Your lips moved again, Harrison," the living dummy replied, shaking his grinning head in exasperation. He turned his head to the audience. "You guys see him, right?"

"Ye-e-es," three boys in the second row chorused.

Jillian quickly brought her free hand up and shook his wooden shoulder. "Play nice, Slappy," she said as lightly as she could, trying to pass it off as a joke, but her voice sounded tight even to her own ears. She turned to Harrison and the bucktoothed puppet. "What other jokes do you know, Maxie?"

Jillian saw Harrison's dark eyes flick from her to the audience, but he seemed determined to roll with it. "So, duh, did you hear about the hungry clock?" he tried again, but Jillian noticed that Maxie's jaw did not move quite in time with the words. Harrison did not wait for a response and declared, "It went back four seconds!"

While it was a dumb joke, it was enough to make some of the children giggle, but the dummy shook his head again. "Can't you do a 'B' sound to save your life, kid? Maybe we should just put you out of your misery now. This _act_ is certainly keeling over. Who wrote the script again? Oh, yeah. _You_ did!"

Jillian gripped his skinny arm. "Slappy, be nice," she warned, keeping her smile in place. "I'd like to see you be a ventriloquist sometime."

He snorted. "Hey, can **_I_** help it if Mr. 'I Wanna Voice Miss Piggy' here can't even say my name? Or that he named his own dummy _M-M-M-Maxie_?" he hummed nastily. "Here, Harrison, watch Jillian's cute little mouth, and see if it moves: _Slap-py. Slap-py. Slap-py. Rubber baby buggy bumpers! Rubber baby buggy bumpers!_ "

Jillian shook his shoulder again - harder. "Stick to the script, dummy," she admonished like a mother, trying to make it seem like part of the show. "You can't hog the spotlight."

"No, because Harrison is taking up most of it," he mocked. "Hey, Harrison, when you wear red, do you get mistaken for the Kool-Aid mascot? You're so big, you could sit on a dollar bill and squeeze a booger out of Washington's nose!"

"Slappy..." she warned, but the dummy snickered.

Harrison laughed too, but it sounded forced. He adjusted his hold on Maxie. "Hey, Slap - uh, dude, why can't you tell jokes while standing on ice?"

"I know why _you_ can't, _dude_ , but I have a better question," he said and turned to the children. "Hey, kids, did you know Harrison here actually ate a _whole bowl of mud_?"

"Eeww!" came a chorus of groans, mostly from the little girls, but some of the boys thought it was hilarious.

Jillian felt her stomach drop.

"That was a long time ago," Harrison said, shooting Jillian a dirty look.

"Back when you were seven, right? Was that your age or your I.Q. level?" Slappy snickered. He turned back to the children. "You guys are all six, right? Would _you_ be that stupid?"

"No-o-o!" the kids replied.

This had gone far enough. "Slappy, stop it," Jillian ordered, breaking character.

Slappy turned - and gave her a pleasant smile. "You should wear green more often, Jillian. It really brings out your eyes." His raspy voice took on a syrupy tone as he nudged her shoulder with his brown head. "You know, dearest, if you put me in front of a mirror, you'd see the _two_ best-looking things on the planet."

Jillian clenched her teeth and coolly pushed him away. "Slappy, stick to the script. Maxie wants his chance to talk."

"What if I don't want to talk to Maxie?" he demanded. "What if I want to talk to you?"

"I don't want to talk to you right now," she said briskly.

"Well, you can't talk if I'm talking, right?" he mocked. "So, what if **_I_** just kept on talking? How would _you_ like it? _Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer…_ Everybody!" he cried.

Some children sang along, but most of them watched in silence. Jillian barely paid attention to them - and refused to look at Harrison. As the dummy continued to belt out the lyrics, one thought crossed her mind.

 _I can start talking right now and blow his secret_.

However, even as she considered it, her gut told her it would not end well.

Her free hand clenched into a fist - and she got an idea. As Slappy hit ninety-five bottles of beer on the wall, Jillian slowly, carefully, began to pull her other hand back. He could not pretend to be a lifeless dummy if he had no ventriloquist. Her wrist tapped the lip of the hole - and that was as far she got.

Her hand was stuck.

Slappy promptly stopped singing and turned his head. "What's the matter, Jillian?" he taunted. "You look like you got your hand caught in the cookie jar."

She jiggled her hand, twisting it this way and that, but the folds were beginning to tightened, cutting off circulation to her wrist.

Slappy let out an ugly snicker. "Not so fun to be trapped, is it?" he hissed under his nonexistent breath. He turned back to the kids. "Hey, who wants to see me guess Harrison's weight?"

Harrison was not saying anything now. He was not even holding Maxie upright anymore. His huge mouth was a thin line, and Jillian could see he was trying to keep it together as Slappy sent another volley of insults at him. For once he did not laugh.

Slappy was not going to win this. Getting an idea, Jillian uncurled her trapped fingers and made a quick grab for his strings - maybe if she kept his mouth open, that would force them into a stalemate - and tugged it firmly.

...Nothing happened.

She pulled again - but his jaw did not move so much as a crack.

Slappy leaned against her. "Nice try, dreamboat."

"C'mon, this isn't funny," she said through her teeth.

His leer widened. "All humor is based on suffering, sweetheart." His blue eyes immediately grew sharper. "Are you suffering yet?"

The hole tightened further around her wrist, and the dull pain was becoming sharper. She met his intense gaze, refusing to cry out. "What do you want, Slappy?"

A glimmer appeared in his eyes. "How about a kiss?" he said loudly.

Laughter erupted among the six-year-olds, and a few boys began to gag, but Jillian barely heard them. A chill ran through her.

"I don't want to kiss you," she returned. "I only kiss good dummies. Like Maxie." _He's just doing this to get back at me. He's just doing this to get back at me_.

His eyes narrowed. "Maxie isn't the one on your lap," he growled. "Maxie isn't the one who's been helping you for two weeks. Kiss me."

"No, way. I don't want to get termites, Slappy."

Two or three kids chuckled at that, but the rest did not find it very funny. Jillian could see Katie and Amanda at the back, both staring hard at them. Where was Mary-Ellen?

She heard Slappy's jaw click. "Give me a kiss, and I'll do the show."

Jillian lowered her gaze to meet his. "Fine, you want a kiss? I'll give you a kiss."

His blue eyes glittered with sick triumphant. His red lips parted a little as she leaned forward -

\- and popped a Hershey kiss from her jeans pocket into his mouth.

Laughter erupted from the six-year-olds. Eddie Simkin made a face. "This is lame!" he declared, but Jillian barely heard him.

She rose to her feet. "You've been a beautiful audience," she told the kids, giving a bow, and promptly headed upstairs, carrying the trembling dummy with her.

* * *

"What is the matter with you?!" she demanded as soon as the basement door closed behind her. The first floor was deserted, and she hauled the dummy into the living room.

"It was a joke," he said cheerfully. "Don't take it so seriously. You'll get wrinkles."

She spun him around to face her. " _Don't_ tell me to not take it seriously, Slappy," she said through her teeth. "That's what my parents tell me all the time, and I don't need it from you!" Her throat was tightening, making it difficult to get the words out. "Why would you do that?! You're supposed to be my friend, and you humiliated me!"

"You keep saying we're friends," he drawled, "and I should do stuff for you based on just that, but I've been thinking, doll face. I do an awful lot for _you_ , and I'm only getting one single, solitary favor for my efforts. What _else_ am I getting out of this partnership?"

She all but threw him on the couch, scoffing with disgust. "I do things for you, don't I?" she demanded. "I bring you food. I let you stay in my room."

"Trifles," he sniffed, folding his arms. " ** _I_** use magic for you - despite knowing its cost, my dear. **_I_** came up with ideas when you could only think of tying shoelaces together. **_I_** told you that the Garbage Pail Kid knock-off was alive. And how do you repay me, Jillian? You forget me the moment your darling gorilla pokes his head in."

"You _know_ that was an accident!" she retorted, her fists beginning to tremble. "What about our plan? What about getting rid of Mary-Ellen? You ruined _everything_!"

"As if your dumb plan was ever going to work," he sneered, shaking his head. "You think you're such a great actress that Mary-Ellen didn't already see right through you? She would've smelled the trap a mile away and set you up for a fall, girl. Frankly, I did you a favor."

"By humiliating me in front of everyone?!" she shrieked.

He gave her a smug smile. "C'mon, you wanted an act that would get the kids talking to their parents, right? You can _bet_ they'll talk about it now!" he tittered cheerfully. "Let's see Harrison do _that_ for you."

She wanted to slap that grin off his ugly face. "I don't know what your problem is, but you can't hate Harrison forever."

His smile vanished. "Try me."

"What do you have against him?" she demanded, throwing up her hands. "He's been nice to you, took you home instead of leaving you in that trash can, left you here so that Dad could fix you. You owe him, Slappy. Big."

His eyes narrowed to baleful slits. "Are you really that stupid?" he growled. "You really wanna know why I can't stand that hairy meat sack? Because, despite everything I do, you can always walk out the door with that drooling buffoon, and I can't follow." His hand jerked toward the curtained window. "There's a whole _world_ outside, Jillian, and _he's_ the one you can enjoy it with. So, _what_ am I getting for my troubles?" he demanded, his hoarse voice becoming shriller. "What do I get?"

She stopped, staring. Was he serious? Was he really saying what she thought he was saying?

"Well, Jillian?" the dummy snapped.

She looked him straight in the eye even as her whole body began to tremble. "I'm not your girlfriend, Slappy."

She heard his jaw click, and he drew himself up. "I never said I wanted a _girlfriend_ , idiot," he growled, his raspy voice becoming dangerously soft.

Her stomach churned as if dancing the Macarena, but she willed herself - forced herself - to keep control. "You're a dummy, Slappy," she continued quietly. "I'm a human. It's never gonna happen. Not even if I did feel that way - which I don't."

He looked at her for a long moment. "Well," he said at last, "that's unfortunate." He took a step forward, his limbs tightening as if he were about to spring off the couch -

\- and it was then that she heard the basement door slam open. Slappy immediately crumpled, almost tumbling off the edge, and in seconds Harrison stormed into the living room.

"What was _that_ about?" he demanded.

Jillian stepped away from the couch. "Not now, Harrison," she said, trying to keep her voice calm despite the tempest raging through her.

"Yes, now!" he retorted, shooting his muscular arm in front of her to block her escape. "What were you thinking, Jillian? Do you know how sick that all sounded?"

"Oh, believe me, it's _very_ sick," she returned, shooting a dirty glance over her shoulder at the grinning puppet. "I guess somebody just got carried away."

Harrison threw up his thick hands. "Jillian, what is _up_ with you lately?" he demanded. "This whole week you've been acting weird. You stole from your dad; beat up a doll; you asked me for money twice and still won't tell me what it's for, and now you messed up our act with those gross jokes? And that crack about my mom?! We're supposed to be a team, Jillian! I dressed up as a dumb clown for you - and I gave you Slappy, didn't I?"

Jillian let out a frustrated breath. She could tell him - not that he would believe her, but she could tell him. After what Slappy pulled, why should she keep his secret? ...But even in the midst of her suffocating anger, she knew it would be a bad idea. "I can't tell you, Harrison. You just have to trust me."

"What's so big that you can't tell me?" He looked hurt.

She lowered her gaze. "I just can't," she said softly. "Just trust me. Please, Harrison."

She saw his big fists tighten. "Some friend you are." He turned and strode into the hall.

She started after him. "Harrison, wait - " but that was all she got out before she saw movement in the tail of her eye - the bed sheet over the kitchen moved, and a dark head peeked out. Amanda.

Even as Harrison yanked the basement door open, Jillian slowed at the sight of her little sister's grim face. "What do you want?" she snapped.

Amanda said nothing but stepped out into the hall and headed toward her.

In her hands was the squirting pie pan.

Filled to the top with an all too familiar white foam.

Jillian stiffened. "Don't even think about - " she began, but she saw the little hand come up, holding the pump, and before Jillian could spring away, her sister gave a squeeze - and the foam exploded from the pan.

Covering Jillian in soap.

Soap.

Soap. Soap. Soap.

Something snapped inside her.

* * *

Jillian started forward. " _COME BACK HERE_!" she screeched.

Amanda spun on her heel with a shriek and plunged beneath the makeshift curtain. Jillian's long legs got her there in seconds, and she ducked beneath the bed sheet -

\- and saw both twins beside the kitchen table. Katie was holding Mary-Ellen.

 _Now, Amanda_ , the doll said.

Amanda turned toward the table - and the homemade birthday cake.

Jillian's heart caught in her throat. "Don't you even - "

That was all she got out before Amanda jumped up - and threw her little body right on top of the smiling green brontosaurus, covering her face and pretty party frock in blue icing and chocolate crumbs.

Katie immediately let out a shriek. " _Jillian, why did you push Amanda into the birthday cake?!_ "

Jillian took a step back. "What! I - "

"I'm telling!" Amanda wailed, looking down at her messy dress. "Mommy's gonna be mad at you!"

"It took her forever to make it!" Katie screeched. "You're in big trouble!"

\- And the two promptly broke into giggles. Infernal, infuriating giggles.

Jillian stared at her sisters. All at once a rush of images flooded her mind - the frantic search for them at the circus last summer, Petey inside Slappy's lifeless jaws, the little boy and girl screaming in pain, the kitchen fire - and their giggling, always giggling, faces, unrepentant and unremorseful. They did not care - they did _NOT_ care. People could get hurt; lives could be ruined, and they would still think it was just a big joke. They would never change.

Never change.

"Well," she said softly, finally finding her voice, "if I'm gonna get in trouble _anyway_..."

In a flash she flew across the room.

Identical green eyes widened in terror, and the girls turned, trying to make a break for it, but Jillian was on them in moments. Katie served to the side, shielding the huge doll, and managed to duck under the second bed sheet into the dining room, but Amanda was not so fast. Jillian's hand latched onto her chocolate-covered arm, and she spun her little body around -

\- and slapped her across the face.

Amanda immediately let out a shriek of pain, and the tears began to fall.

So worth it.

* * *

Jillian trudged silently up the stairs, but she told herself that she did not care.

Everyone had been upset about the cake. The kids had moaned with disappointment, and Eddie had wailed that his birthday party had been ruined. Mrs. Simkin had been furious. Her parents had been livid - Mom had turned white with anger as she had surveyed her hard work and Amanda's soiled dress and had told Dad to deal with Jillian because she could not even look at her - and, of course, no one had believed her that prissy Amanda had voluntarily jumped into the birthday cake.

Doubly so since Amanda had a red mark on her face.

And Jillian had tried to show her father the used pie pan - only to find that it had been filled with whip cream. Or swapped out with whip cream. Whichever the case, Dad had refused to hear anymore on the subject.

Even Harrison had not taken her side. "You hit your little sister?" he had gasped, his big mouth dropping open.

"She had it coming," she had retorted, but her so-called best friend had only shaken his head before Dad had finally ordered her upstairs.

Amanda had been in the living room, surrounded by the other kids and whimpering up a storm while Katie comforted her, but Jillian had seen Amanda peek through her finger to look at her as she had passed. Faker.

"Go kiss a bee," Jillian had hissed.

Both girls had glared. "We're allergic," Katie had said.

"I know."

Of course, they had then run to Dad to tattle - but Jillian did not care anymore.

She finally reached her room and pushed the door open. She slipped out of her soap-covered clothes into a clean T-shirt and pants - when was the last time she had actually changed in her own room? - and crumbled the pink flower on the windowsill before tossing it into her waste basket. She pulled Petey from his cage, pressing him close as she sat on her bed. He must have sensed her unease because he did not settle down on her shoulder as readily as he usually did, but with enough pets he finally snuggled into her neck. She pressed her burning cheek against Petey's head, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the party, the cake, and Mom's fury - and all those thoughts instantly vanished with one image: Slappys hard eyes staring at her, giving her a greasy smile that made her skin crawl.

Her eyes shot open as her stomach churned.

 _Why now? Why today?_ she asked bitterly. She had suspected it all along - more than suspected, if she was honest with herself - but it had been so much easier to tell herself the living dummy who slept in her suitcase was only trying to get a rise out of her whenever he took her hand and called her "sweetheart." She never thought he might sabotage their show to ask for a - a -

She swallowed hard, holding Petey tighter.

Slappy had to see how silly the whole idea was. She was a human. She was going to grow up someday - grow old. He was going to remain the same. He had to understand that. Normal relationships already came with no guarantee of success - there was a good reason why Harrison rarely talked about his dad or the three younger half-siblings he had only met twice.

She rubbed her wrist, still sore from him trapping her hand. Well, there was no way she would like him now after that stunt he pulled - not that she did. The only thing to do was to keep him at arm's length from now on, something she should have done from the get-go. She did not feel that way about him, and she did not want him to get any ideas. They would go back to being partners in revenge, and then she would pay her favor - and never speak to him again.

She set Petey back in his tank and headed into hall. She needed to splash some cool water on her burning face. As she strode past the banister, she glanced down the stairs - and spotted Harrison heading toward the front door. In one arm he carried Maxie. In the other, Slappy.

 _Good_ , a part of her thought, yet, despite her anger, she felt her throat tightened. She watched and said nothing as the door closed behind them.

Then a horrible thought struck her.

What was she going to do about Mary-Ellen now?

* * *

A/N: All things considered, Jillian should probably be glad Eddie's party turned out differently than it did in the book.


	10. Chapter 10

That night, Jillian strung up the bell-covered hanger and laid a bath towel across the crack of her door. No need to explain to her parents why she was awake long after they thought she had gone to sleep, sitting in her pajamas on her bed with her heavy backpack beside her like a club and Dad's video camera in arm's reach.

Silence soon loomed over the house, magnifying even the barest creak and the faintest moan that set her heart pumping. She dozed off a few times during the long night, but then she would jolt awake, listening intently for whatever murmur that had disturbed her slumber.

In those stretching hours, she had plenty of time to think, and by midnight, when a light rain began to pelt her window, she came up with a plan. She would talk to Harrison - just as soon as she devised some explanation for the sabotaged act. Maybe bring a peace offering. As easygoing as he was, he had limits. If she had to, she would promise him an entire month's - no, _two_ month's allowance and do his weekend chores for a year just to get inside his front door.

Then she would talk to Slappy.

She had tried to dismiss the idea at first. "He was supposed to help me _get_ revenge - not take revenge on _me_!" she told Petey as she cradled the sleepy reptile. She would not go to that puppet crying like a baby because the Big Bad Doll down the hall scared her. That would be like saying what he did was right - that he could get away with humiliating her.

However, as the long night worn on, her mind had kept drifting to him, wondering if he was happy at the Cohens' house - or unhappy - if he was sitting quietly in a corner while Harrison and his grandmother watched television or if he had been left alone on the other side of the duplex, causing mischief - and whether that would tip Harrison off to Slappy's secret. "Serves him right if it does," she told the lizard hotly - right before a soft creak made her freeze.

More than once she glanced from the library book in her lap to look at the rest of the little stack on her desk... and noticed how empty it was not to have him there, sneering at the quality of children's literature.

"You call this horror?" he had cracked on their third day together, back when he was working his way through her _Shivers_ collection. "Ha! I can tell you a few tales that would _really_ get you shivering, kiddo." He had then told her about cocoa recipes that turned the drinker into marshmallows, peanut butter that made a person shrink to nothingness, and aging potions that left the drinker a pile of dust. He had shared tales from when he used to travel with a horror-themed carnival, and he had gleefully recounted the time he had insulted a vengeful witch who was obsessed with etiquette. "The freak tried to turn me into a meatbag by chanting, 'Human, human,' but, naturally, her spell didn't work," he had boasted, dusting his fingertips. "It takes more than a correspondence course in black magic to defeat _this_ handsome devil."

Jillian had not known whether she could believe him, but she liked a good ghost story, so she had kept nodding her head - and had tried not to smile whenever he would turn another page, deigning to read just one more chapter.

As such, as the sky began to lighten, and as the house finally ceased its endless creaking, she made up her mind. She would go to Harrison's house. She would get Slappy back. She would have to lay down some ground rules of course. He had to understand that she did not like him _that_ way, but she still liked him and liked hanging out with him. Even if she did not desperately need his help.

When she was sure Harrison would be up, she jumped out of bed and threw on her clothes and - thinking quickly - grabbed Petey from her pillow. No point leaving him alone for Mary-Ellen to hurt him again.

She hurried downstairs to the bench beside the front door - and immediately saw that her sneakers were missing. Jillian exhaled through her teeth, turning on her heel to rush back upstairs. Typical. She must have left them in her bedroom -

"Jillian Louise," Dad called from the kitchen, "get in here."

Jillian stopped in her tracks. She knew that tone.

* * *

Her father was standing in the center of the kitchen, arms folded and wearing a look Jillian was all too familiar with. It did not take a genius to figure out what had made him upset.

Muddy footprints, fresh from last night's rain shower, covered the newly mopped kitchen floor, leading into the carpet of the dining room and circling back to cross the other side of the kitchen table, finally heading into the laundry room. In the doorway laid Jillian's discharged sneakers, caked in dirt.

Jillian frowned, holding Petey closer. "I did _not_ do that."

Dad pointed to the table. "Sit down, young lady."

All thoughts of escaping to Harrison's evaporated in a puff as she stepped over the patches of mud and lowered herself stiffly. Her father remained standing, staring down at her.

"Your mother did not even want to deal with any of you girls when she saw this," he said softly. "Last night, she went to bed crying after what happened at the party, and then she came down to see more mischief. How do you think this makes her feel?"

Jillian looked down at Petey, gritting her teeth, but she could still sense her father's stern gaze. "I didn't do it."

"Well, _somebody_ did," he returned, and she could hear the heat in his voice. "It's just one thing after another with you girls these last few days. You lose your temper at dinner and smash your sisters' doll into macaroni. They stuff your lizard into that dummy. You throw a frog at Amanda. On and on and on." Jillian saw his big foot begin to tap. "What's it gonna take to get some peace in this home?" he demanded. "We've grounded all three of you. Taken away toys. Taken away the T.V., and taken away phone privileges, but nothing stops. You just _gotta_ keep at each other's throats. Gotta keep hurting each other. Gotta get revenge. What do I have to do? Lock the three of you in a room like cats until you learn to get along?"

"I didn't track mud inside," Jillian retorted.

"As far as I'm concerned, none of you girls should be out of bed when we're all asleep," Dad snapped. "Even if it's just in our backyard, some sicko could sneak up and grab one of you, and we'd never know it. Do you know what happens to kidnapped children?"

"I didn't do it," she insisted. "If I did sneak out, I wouldn't leave evidence."

"So, you're saying your sisters did this?" he questioned, sweeping an arm toward the mess.

"Yes," she said tightly. "Not that you believe me."

He let out a sigh. "You know I want to believe you didn't do this. So, why do you think your little sisters are causing trouble for you?"

She finally raised her eyes. "Because they're crazy." _And evil_.

"Just that? They're crazy?" Dad returned, quirking a dark eyebrow. "You need a lot more evidence to convince a jury, Jillian."

Jillian held his gaze. "They think their doll is alive and telling them to do stuff."

"They're also six," he replied. "I had an imaginary friend at that age, but I wasn't crazy."

She uttered a soft scoff. "They stuffed Petey in Slappy's mouth, didn't they?" She turned the little reptile around so that her father could get a good look at his grand-lizard's face. "Is _that_ normal?"

Dad heaved a tired sigh, rubbing his temples. "So, you think your little sisters are out to make your life miserable?"

"I know it."

He leaned back, studying her. For a long moment he was silent. Finally, he said, "Maybe all three of you need to talk with somebody. I can ask the guidance counselor at your school if they would do a group session."

"They need more than a shrink," Jillian snorted.

"Well, I can't send you girls to a real shrink. Money's tight right now," he said, nodding to the still blackened stove. "But something's gotta give. You three can't fight for the rest of your lives. What's it going to take to get through to you girls?"

"They started it."

"And I'm gonna finish it," he retorted. "This isn't healthy for any of you. They're your family, Jillian. You need them just as much as they need you. Even if you can't see it right now."

Jillian kept her eyes straight ahead. She had heard it all before. Love your little sisters. Let them push you around. Stand back while they set the house on fire. Blah, blah, blah. Same ol', same ol'. "Sure, Dad," she said aloud.

She could see he did not buy it. "Take Petey upstairs, and come back and help me clean up this mess before your mother returns - and this is not up for discussion, young lady," he warned, cutting her off as she opened her mouth to protest. "I'll talk to your sisters later, but right now, let's get the downstairs looking nice so that Mom has some peace of mind. _Capisce_?"

At this rate it would take her an eternity to get over to Harrison's, but she forced herself to nod. "Yes, Dad."

He turned away, shaking his head - and Jillian saw him pause for a second before he pointed to the den. "And you better take that dummy upstairs. You know how your mother feels about you girls leaving toys around."

* * *

Jillian whirled around, and her heart caught in her throat as she followed her father's gaze. She rose to her feet and hurried forward - as gently as she could with Petey on her shoulder - and knelt beside the grinning dummy in the big recliner. "Are you okay?" she whispered. "How did you get here?" Harrison lived just down the street, but it was still quite a distance for a short-legged puppet!

He did not raise his head - of course, he would not. He just stared at her with glassy eyes and his default grin - and she had never been more happy to see him.

"Must've forgotten him," she told her father quickly and scooped the dummy into her free arm, clutching him around his skinny chest.

"Well, take it upstairs, then come back down," Dad ordered. "We got a job to do."

Jillian jerked a nod and headed for the stairs with as much speed as she could while balancing both pet and puppet. Once in her room, she placed the dummy on his feet and quickly returned Petey to his cage. "How did you get here?" she asked in a rush, turning to face him. "Did anyone see you? What happened? Are you alright? When did you get here?"

He did not reply. He just dusted off his frayed jacket, watching her quietly.

"Did Mary-Ellen see you?" she continued breathlessly. "Did you see what she did downstairs? What are we going to do..." The words died in her throat as she surveyed the little puppet, who just continued to stare at her, his expression unreadable. "Please, say something," she said at last.

He tilted his head. "Are you happy to see me, Jillian?"

Jillian held his gaze. "You're my friend. I was worried about you."

His mouth twitched. "That's not what I asked."

She fidgeted with the hem of her T-shirt. "You're my friend," she repeated. "Of course, I'm happy to see you."

He was quiet for another long moment, his blue eyes sweeping up and down her frame. "Good," he said at last, but his voice sounded odd. He turned toward the bed and pulled himself up. "So, care to get your _friend_ some breakfast? Or should I grab it myself? I think I'll try that cereal you're always harpin' about. Who knows? It might not taste like cardboard after all."

She took a step toward him. "Slappy - " she started to say, but he cut her off.

"Oh, don't look like a fish with a hook in your mouth, _pal_ ," he sniffed, waving his hand to silence her. He crossed his flimsy legs, allowing one to dangle over the side of the bed. "I have just the thing to put a smile back on that pretty face - or should I not say that?" he asked, furrowing his brow in mock concern.

"Slappy - "

"Well, I suppose I could call you ugly from now," he mused dryly. "Hideous, revolting, dog-faced - see? I got a million of them, so no need to worry about little ol' me, _buddy_. Wouldn't dream of making it awkward between us."

"Slappy - "

"But cutting to the chase, kid," he said briskly, "you'll be happy to know that - "

"Slappy!" she cried, closing the distance between them until she was a foot away.

He tilted his head back to give her a half-lidded look. "Yes, Ms. Zinman? Do you have something to share with the rest of the class?"

She took a deep breath. This was not at all how she pictured this moment. Everything she had wanted to say to him - the little speech she had been ready to deliver once she heroically made it through Harrison's front door - all seemed irrelevant now, and it was hard to think with those cold eyes staring back at her. Still, she forced herself to hold his gaze.

"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings," she said slowly, "but I'm not gonna pretend to like you that way - I don't like anyone that way."

His expression did not change.

She steeled herself and tried to remember all the points she had wanted to make, but it was growing more and more difficult under his stare. "Even if I _did_ want a boyfriend - which I don't - Mom says I can't date until I'm sixteen. That's four years away. And, well, I hardly know you, Slappy," she pointed out - sensibly, she hoped, "and you hardly know me. It's only been two weeks, right? I mean, it'd be too weird - even if you were human - but I really do like you, Slappy. The same way I like Harris - "

"Stop right there," he cut in, raising a wooden hand. A look of disgust had crossed his cracked face. "Very touching, but I don't care if you love me or hate me, Jillian."

She felt as if a balloon was deflating inside her. "No?" she said lamely.

He shook his head, giving her a look as if she had dribbled on herself. "That's never been a factor in our deal, kid," he replied with a scornful sniff. His eyes narrowed further. "We started this because your sisters shoved a reptile inside me when I was unconscious, and I don't like flesh sacks doing things to me when I'm unconscious. So, let's make this easy. You get your revenge, and I get my favor. Win-win, right?"

"Slappy - " she tried again, but his withering look silenced her.

"Don't embarrass yourself further, girl." He folded his arms, tapping one shoe against her blue comforter. "The main thing right now is what to do about that doll. I saw her handiwork out there. Sure, it's not setting the house on fire, but she's got both your parents so worked up that she doesn't have to do anything big. The slightest sneeze will get you disinherited now."

Jillian let out a long breath and slowly sat down on her desk chair. "So, what can we do?" she asked quietly.

"Good question," he said dryly. "She was willing to risk burning the house down to make a point and destroyed your stuff just to see you suffer. She doesn't want to be your friend, and if she puts me to sleep again, you'll just have to hope she'll be feeling the teeniest bit merciful. What options does that leave us, class?" He looked at her as if he were expecting a response.

She lowered her gaze. "I don't know."

"That's an understatement," he cracked. "But be of good cheer, pal. There is one solution we haven't tried yet." His hoarse voice sounded funny, and she heard his jaw click. "You can tell the ape."

Jillian looked up. "Excuse me?" Did he just say…?

"You can tell the ape," he repeated - with obvious difficulty. "Mary-Ellen will never think we'd recruit him. That makes him a wild card. He could prove useful."

She tried to keep her excitement from showing. "Smart thinking," she said carefully.

"Of course, it is," he retorted. "This is me we're talking about. But, friend to friend, be sure to tell Fat Face that if he tells anyone, he's toast." His blue eyes flashed, brimming with bile. Then he suddenly leaned back, looking down at his fingertips. "Well, you better go downstairs before your dad yells at you, kiddo."

Oh, right. She jumped to her feet, stepping toward the door - and paused, turning to face him. "Thank you, Slappy," she said. "Thank you for... for everything."

His jaw clicked. "Anytime, pal."

* * *

Katie found every excuse she could to stay out of her room all morning. The tiniest peep set off the Mary-Ellen's volcano-like anger, and Katie had already spent a miserable night in the doll's company, hating to stay, but too scared to flee. Mary-Ellen had made them stay up until past midnight as she brooded and dreamed up a zillion ways to make Jillian suffer. Then the rain started, and Katie had had to go outside in the chilly shower without her raincoat, stomping around in her sister's shoes until Mary-Ellen finally allowed the girls to go to bed.

At least she had not set the house on fire.

Katie sat now on the carpeted floor of the rec room, arms wrapped around her knees. All traces of the party had been cleared away, and the basement looked like it used to - except for the now empty shelf in the video cabinet that used to hold the Bugs Bunny tapes.

She tossed back her ponytail and exhaled through her teeth, clenching her fists. Yesterday was supposed to be a great day, she thought bitterly. Slappy and Mary-Ellen were supposed to become friends, and then Mary-Ellen would stop being angry all the time - but it had been stupid to think Mary-Ellen would ever be nice to Jillian. Even though it had been Jillian's idea to sneak the doll downstairs to watch the show, Mary-Ellen had not shown even a smidgen of gratitude. As soon as Katie had gone to fetch her, Mary-Ellen had immediately commanded her to grab the squirting pie pan from her sister's closet, already scheming to get Jillian into more trouble. Then the dummy show happened...

Katie buried her face into her arms.

Sometimes - many times - she really wanted to throw that doll off a cliff.

...But that would just make Mary-Ellen even more mad.

She heard the basement door open, cutting into her thoughts, and she raised her head to see Amanda coming down the steps, lugging a familiar shape over her shoulder. Amanda was wearing a plain jumper while Mary-Ellen was decked Amanda's pretty flower dress. She looked ugly in it, Katie thought.

"Hey," she greeted the two, quickly forming a fake smile, "you guys wanna watch a movie?" They were still banned from television, but she was willing to sneak it if it would distract Mary-Ellen for awhile.

Amanda did not reply right away. She glanced at the doll for a long moment before she turned back to Katie. "Mary-Ellen wants us to go into the workshop," she said quietly.

 _Why?_ Katie wanted to say, but she knew to keep her mouth shut. She nodded, climbing to her feet and straightened her overalls. "Okay."

She trailed after her sister, who flicked on the light switch and led the way to the furthest wall.

It was then that Katie noticed how miserable her sister looked.

Amanda stopped in front of the closet and slowly turned, and Katie immediately tensed. Shimmers of tears were beginning to form in Amanda's green eyes. "Katie, Mary-Ellen isn't happy with you."

Katie took a step back, staring at the doll. "What did I do?" she squeaked.

Mary-Ellen did not reply. She did not even move.

Amanda sniffed loudly. "S-She says you're n-not… obeying her like you should," she answered, her voice beginning to break.

Katie's heart caught in her throat. "What did I do?" she pleaded. "I brought you breakfast today, didn't I? Frosted Flakes and a Pop-Tart, remember, Mary-Ellen? Remember?"

Amanda shook her head, her lower lip trembling. "She says you did a very bad thing."

Katie's gaze shot from her sister's reddening face to the doll's cold violet stare. "Please, talk to me, Mary-Ellen!" she begged. "I'm sorry! Whatever I did, I'm sorry!"

Amanda sniffed again, blinking fiercely. "S-She says you've been a bad girl, and you n-need to be taught a lesson."

"I didn't do anything!" Katie cried. Every instinct wanted to spring away and run up the stairs, far away from the doll - but that would just make Mary-Ellen even more mad. "I always do what you ask! Don't I, Mary-Ellen?" she wailed, pressing her hands together, but the plastic face did not change. "What did I do?"

Amanda swallowed noisily. It took her several moments before she could speak. "Mary-Ellen w-wants to know h-how..." She gulped again, blinking back tears, and finally croaked out, "...How Slappy knew to get her a Cookies 'n' Creme bar."

A chill ran through Katie.

She took another step back, gulping. "I was just trying to help! Jillian said that Slappy wanted to be your friend, and she asked what you liked so that Slappy could be nice to you! Honest, Mary-Ellen!"

Amanda looked like she was trying hard not to cry, but it was impossible for her to stop once the tears began to flow - and they were running down her thin cheeks like a drinking fountain. She gulped and raised her finger toward the closet. "M-Mary-Ellen says you have to get in there."

Katie's knees began to shake. "But - But - "

"You h-have to do it. Or y-you'll be sorry."

Katie clasped her hands together. "Please! Please, don't make me, Mary-Ellen!"

The doll did not reply. For a long moment, she did not move.

Finally, an image flashed in Katie's mind.

The scary image.

Katie shuddered and opened the closet door, stepping into the cramped space. She sucked in a deep breath and wrapped her arms around her chest as Amanda, still sobbing, whispered, "S-She'll tell you when you can come out." Katie jerked a nod as her sister shut her in, leaving her in a darkness broken only by the thin line of light at the bottom of the door - at least until Amanda flicked the switch.

* * *

Jillian swept and mopped the kitchen floor while Dad worked on the dining room. It took longer than she expected, but, finally, he released her, yet she had to wait until he got the mud stains out of the carpet and got in his car to head to the hardware store before it was safe to sneak out. Even if her parents had not confiscated her bedroom phone, this was something that had to be done in person, and there was no time to be lost waiting to tell Harrison at school the next day.

She broke into a run, humming to herself as she flew down the street.

How would she tell him? she wondered as she sailed past houses. How did one even begin to share something like this?

 _Hey, Harrison, I know I acted weird at the party, but, get this, Slappy was doing everything, and_ -

Dumb.

 _Hey, Harrison, you know that diary you found with all those stories about Slappy? Funny thing, but_ -

Gag.

Maybe she could just drag him over to her house and have Slappy tell him himself. Jillian chuckled at the image that flashed across her mind of how he would look when that happened. This was going to be awesome!

All too soon she was on the front porch of the duplex. Her side had a stitch from running, and she could feel sweat under her clothing, but she barely noticed. She knocked quickly, holding herself back from hammering on the door, and waited, sucking in a deep breath to calm the delicious butterflies.

In a moment, the door opened, and Harrison's huge form appeared.

"Hey, I - " Her words died as she caught the look on his face.

"What do _you_ want?" he asked coldly. His normally warm dark eyes were now as sharp as daggers.

Jillian quickly caught herself and straightened her shoulders. "Can I come in?" she asked, hoping she looked apologetic.

He did not move. "Why? So, you can say more mean stuff about my mom?"

She shook her head. "Of course not," she replied. "Look, I'm sorry about yesterday. It was a weird time, but I can explain everyth - "

"Forget it, Jillian," he retorted, practically snarling. "How can you even speak to me after all the stuff you said on the phone?"

She frowned without meaning to. "Excuse me?"

"What? You're gonna play dumb now?" he demanded. He shook his dark head, scoffing with disgust. "You're really something else, you know that?"

Her heart began to pound hard in her chest. "I didn't call you."

"Oh, so you _didn't_ call me this morning and _didn't_ make all those cracks about my mom dying of smoker's lung?" he retorted. "And the stuff you said about my dad never coming back? You said he dumped me like a rotting sack of garbage, remember?"

Her stomach dropped. "I didn't call you," she repeated, and her voice came out in a squeak. "My folks took my phone out of my room. It wasn't me."

"Because that's the only phone in your house, right?" he shot back bitterly. "We have caller I.D., you know, and it was from _your_ house, and it was _your_ voice, Jillian."

"Harrison, I did _not_ call you," she insisted. "I would never say something so cruel."

"Well, it sure _sounded_ like you," he snapped. "Or did your sisters call me? Or Mary-Ellen?"

Something flared inside her, and she grabbed his hand. "You know I wouldn't! Please, you gotta listen - " but he wrenched his muscular arm away easily.

"Drop dead, Jillian." He slammed the door behind him, and Jillian heard the lock click.

* * *

"That doll is history!" Jillian growled, yanking Dad's video camera from where she had stashed it under her bed. "That was low - even for her!"

Slappy's dark brow was furrowed in thought. He had not said much since she had told him what happened. "Well, this complicates things," he murmured as if to himself.

"It's more than complicated!" Jillian snapped. "I can't let her ruin my life!" _And nobody goes after Harrison_ , she added silently - knowing better than to say it out loud. She held up the camera. "We gotta get her on tape. If my parents know about her, they can get rid of her, right? Maybe show it to the police or a scientist, right? So, we gotta _make_ her move. Any ideas?"

He did not say anything for a moment. Finally, his blue eyes flicked to hers. "Maybe," he said slowly, "what we really need is an exit strategy."

That made her stop. "What do you mean?" she asked carefully.

He tilted his head. "I think you know."

She shook her head. "Run away? That's your answer?" she demanded. "She's not gonna chase me outta my own home!"

"Well, it beats waiting for Mary-Ellen to bring the roof down on your head," he cracked. "The last thing I want is to bury you, Jillian. I look terrible in black."

Jillian lowered her gaze without meaning to. "I - I can't leave my parents," she said. "She'll hurt them."

He promptly snorted. "Please, your parents are the ones feeding and clothing her little buddies," he pointed out. "The last thing she'll want is to get rid of their meal tickets. You, on the other hand, are much more expendable, kid."

She sucked in a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "Somebody has to stop her for good, Slappy. We gotta try. Just once."

The dummy shook his head. "Silly animal."

* * *

Jillian jogged down to the basement and surveyed the rec room. The obvious hiding spot was the closet. The question was how to make sure the three terrors got down here. With their T.V. privileges revoked, they _might_ try to sneak down here to watch cartoons, but Mom was already keeping a sharp eye on the twins. Still, besides the girls' bedroom, the basement was probably one of the few places in the house a living doll would feel safe moving, so this was her best chance. If it worked at all -

 _One problem at a time, Jillian_ , she told herself, forcing herself to focus. She stepped into the closet, holding the camera to her eye as she turned it on. Hmm, not bad, but would this be the right angle? What if Mary-Ellen stayed sitting if she moved - when, _when_ she moved - but the camera wouldn't be able to catch her because the doll would be in front of the couch, blocked from view?

Maybe hiding in the workshop would be the better option.

She crossed over to the other room and quickly entered without bothering to turn on the light and crouched down behind the cracked door. Hmm, a little better, but could she open the door wide enough for the camera lense without the doll noticing...

She jumped at the sound of a soft sniff, coming behind her.

Jillian whirled around, tensing.

Another sniff. Very familiar. "Amanda?" she called cautiously.

Silence.

Jillian rose to her feet, and her eyes fell upon the closet. She quickly stashed the camera on a shelf and crept forward. One, two, three...

She grabbed the knob and threw the door open and -

She stopped, frowning. "Katie, what are you doing down here in the dark?"

Her sister did not look up. "Playing," she mumbled, rubbing her running nose, and sniffed again.

Jillian quirked an eyebrow. "You sick?" Were her eyes red?

She shook her head, little mouth in a thin line.

"So, what's the deal?" Jillian demanded, shooting a quick look over her shoulder. If Katie was down here, where were the other two…?

Katie just shrugged, staring down at her socked feet in silence.

 _Act natural, or she'll tell Mary-Ellen you're down here_ , she told herself. "Better beat it, Katie. Before Dad yells at you for messing around in here." She started to head to the door, mentally cursing her rotten luck, but she heard a shuffle behind her, and she turned in time for her sister to spring forward - and throw her little arms around her waist.

Jillian slowly lowered her gaze as Katie broke down sobbing.

Katie who never cried.

For several moments, Jillian stared at her, barely flinching as the thin arms tightened their hold, pinching her skin beneath her T-shirt. Bit by bit, her brain told her that her baby sister was clutching her like a lifesaver, sobbing as if her heart was breaking in two after sitting alone in a closet for who knows how long - and Jillian understood the message.

And a large part of her still wanted to push the little freak away in disgust.

But that was wrong, right?

No, no. This had to be a trick. Just another trick.

...But that howl of misery sure sounded real.

"Hey, don't cry," Jillian heard herself say, but her voice sounded flat.

Katie just let out a wail, gripping her tighter.

Jillian raised her hand and patted the little dark head. "Don't cry," she repeated, but as she continued to stroke Katie's hair, she could not help noticing it was like touching a lifeless doll. Besides the impulse to twist herself out of the tight hug, she felt nothing toward her sobbing sister.

Nothing at all.

...And that scared her.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Advice is appreciated.

Dear, R. L. Stine,

Slappy vs Vanessa from _Chicken, Chicken_ \- please, make that happen.


	11. Chapter 11

Whenever Amanda was upset, she migrated to their mother's vanity to spritz herself with fragrances until she was drenched in a cloud of suffocating floral aromas - and it took all of Jillian's control not to gag when she stepped through the doorway into the contrasting odors. Amanda's head was down, snuffling as she grabbed one bottle after another - and then she looked up, and her little, teary eyes widened in horror when they locked onto her sister's in the mirror.

It was over in moments. Jillian sprang forward. Amanda tried to duck beneath the bed, but Jillian caught her before she could wiggle under. She grabbed her sweet-smelling sister around the waist and hauled her into the hall, one hand clamped over her snot-covered mouth. Amanda kicked and thrashed and tried to lick Jillian's palm, but Jillian held on and dragged her to the top of the stairs.

She forced Amanda's head back and hissed in her ear, "Look, do you want us both to fall and break our necks?"

Amanda gave another kick, but it was half-hearted, and she finally went limp, and Jillian carried her like a ragdoll down the steps - and the struggle began all over again the moment Jillian's feet touched the carpeted floor, but she continued her path to the front door.

"Leggo! Leggo!" Amanda shrieked in the brief moment Jillian released her mouth to grab the doorknob, but the hand muffled her again - and Jillian did not wait to see if Mom could hear Amanda's wails all the way in the noisy laundry room. She hauled her little sister into the warm autumn sun.

Amanda thrashed the whole way as Jillian carried her around the house to the big tree in the backyard - but she went still as soon Katie came into view.

The girls said nothing as Jillian set Amanda beside her twin. The two regarded each other, and Jillian saw the worry on their identical faces - and the quick glance Amanda shot toward the house.

Jillian folded her arms. "So, are you guys gonna tell me why Katie was hiding in the basement closet?" she asked quietly.

She saw them both stiffened - but then Katie's eyes hardened. "I already told you. I was playing," she insisted. "Hide-and-seek." Moments before, Katie had followed Jillian obediently into the backyard, holding her hand like a lost child. Now, the sobbing girl was gone. The tough tomboy was back.

Jillian gestured to Amanda. "So, why was Amanda upstairs playing with Mom's perfume if you were playing a game?"

Amanda gave her a condescending look - which probably would have been more convincing if it were not for her runny nose. "I got tired of looking for her," she said with a stuffy sniff.

Katie socked her arm. "Jerk!"

" _You're_ the jerk," Amanda retorted, returning the smack.

Jillian said nothing as the two started to shove each other. It looked almost like a real argument.

Almost.

"So, why were you crying, Katie?" she said at last just as her sister made a grab for Amanda's short hair.

Jillian saw Katie flinch, but then her sister quickly gave her a frown. "I was thinking about when Grandpa Jackson died," she said seriously. "I really miss him."

 _Yeah, right_. Jillian looked from one thin face to the other. "Let's take a walk," she said carefully.

The twins quirked identical eyebrows. "Where are we going?" Amanda questioned. "We're still grounded."

Jillian shrugged. "Just around the house."

"Lame!" Katie drawled, rolling her eyes, but Jillian saw her shoot a quick glance to the upstairs windows.

Jillian took her hand. "We'll stay on my side of the house," she promised. She took Amanda's hand as well and quickly led them to the east aisle of yellowing grass.

As they walked up and down the little lane, she squeezed both tiny hands, willing herself to feel something for them - but it was like holding hands with a mannequin in a store window.

Jillian sucked in a deep breath. "Girls, why did you put Petey inside Slappy?" Her voice came out in a croak.

Katie looked up. "We didn't do it," she returned. "We told you that."

"He may be gross, but we wouldn't try to hurt a little animal," Amanda said with grave eyes. "We didn't touch him, Jillian."

Jillian slowed her steps. She wanted to believe them - she actually _wanted_ to believe them - even though the image of her precious pet crawling out of a lifeless, leering dummy's mouth still made her heart race with fresh anger. She looked from one to the other. "Did Mary-Ellen do it?"

She saw them both tense.

Amanda withdrew her hand. "We better go inside now," she said. "Mom will yell at us if she sees us outside."

"Yeah," Katie agreed, stepping away from Jillian. "I want a snack too."

They were good liars, Jillian thought.

So, why were they lying for Mary-Ellen?

Jillian's hands clenched as she watched her sisters break into a run, heading toward the back door - but then both girls stopped in their tracks, freezing.

Alarmed, Jillian shot a sweeping glance at the side house windows, expecting to see a plastic face staring back at her in one of them, but all she saw were Venetian blinds and curtains behind glass. She looked again at her sisters, wondering why they now stood as still as statues.

And then she saw the bee.

Jillian shuffled forward as quickly as she dared. "Stay still, girls," she stammered, her stained voice barely above a whisper. "Stay calm. It'll sting if you move."

"We know that!" Katie snapped through her clenched teeth, eyeing the buzzing bee. Jillian saw her swallow hard as the striped insect moved close to her shoulder, her face, her dangling ponytail - and then it went over to Amanda as if entranced.

Amanda's little face screwed up tight as it orbited around her - because, Jillian realised, Amanda reeked of Mom's favorite floral perfume. The bee hovered around her, dancing around her loose hair as it looked for a flower to harvest.

 _Don't land. Don't land. Don't land_.

"Stay calm," Jillian choked out as if that would help, inching closer. Her heart was pounding so hard her chest hurt. Her frantic mind raced for a solution, and she quickly remembered Mom kept their EpiPens in the kitchen drawer - but would she be able to grab one in time if the bee attacked? Should she run now and leave them, frozen in place with fear, and grab it just in case?

The insect came close to Amanda's nose now, and Amanda let out a whimper, her little body tensing.

Then Jillian knew what she had to do.

Without a second thought she stepped toward her little sister, reached out - and closed her hand around the bee.

* * *

"Oww! Oww! Oww!"

"Jillian, hold still," Mom ordered. She gave the stinger one more tug with the tweezer, and the offending bee appendage finally popped out of Jillian's throbbing hand. Mom flicked it quickly into the open trash can before she laid the ice pack Amanda had retrieved onto the injured area. She turned her head towards the two younger girls. "Katie, can you get the First-Aid kit from the upstairs bathroom?"

"I'll go with you!" Amanda said quickly, taking her twin's hand with a protective look, and the two disappeared.

Jillian did not hear them thundering up the steps like normal - but, then, they probably did not want to be heard.

Mom sighed, shaking her head. "This warm weather. Bugs are still swarming around. We're supposed to get a cold snap tomorrow night, but..." She trailed off, her brow furrowing, but then she recovered and patted Jillian's arm. "That was a brave thing you did, sweetie."

Jillian lowered her gaze. "I didn't want them to die," she said in a monotone. Was that all she could say? she thought glumly. Was that all she could feel toward them now besides anger and apathy?

Mom pushed Jillian's bangs back. "Of course, you didn't," she replied. "You love them."

She felt her mouth twitch. "I don't think so," she said flatly. "I'm always angry at them, Mom. Sometimes, all I want to do is knock their heads together."

"I know," Mom said quietly. To Jillian's surprise, Mom gave her arm a gentle tug and, still holding the ice pack in place, guided Jillian to the kitchen table. She sat down beside Jillian, facing her, and squeezed her wrist gently.

"It's good for you to learn this now while you're still young," her mother began, "before the boys start noticing you, and you get some silly teenage notion of what love is. In some ways, love is beautifully complex. In other ways it's so easy, you wonder why you didn't understand it the first time around - and that goes for family love, friendship love, romantic love." She tilted Jillian's head back so that their eyes met. "I've always told you sisters had to love each other, but I never told you sisters had to _like_ each other."

Jillian quirked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Mom gave a sad smile. "You can like someone without loving them, Jillian, and you can love someone without liking them. There are plenty of people in our family that you could not pay me to ride in a car with - but I'll more than certainly cry at their funeral. Does that make sense?"

"I guess," she replied glumly. Didn't make her feel any better.

Mom smoothed back Jillian's bangs and gave her ponytail an affectionate tug. "You know, I thought I hated your Aunt Lu growing up. All of our fights turned into us pulling each other's hair. I would sometimes throw pennies into fountains and loudly wish for space aliens to take her away, just to make her mad." She shook her head, a look of self-reproach in her gray eyes.

Jillian nodded. "Aunt Lu told me about that," she remembered.

"Of course, she would," Mom chuckled. "And for years I wished she would just disappear off the face of the earth - and then one night she did not come home when she was supposed to." Her mouth became a thin line. "Grandpa and Grandma took the car to search for her while Aunt Rosie and Aunt Gracie went to check with the neighbors, and I waited at the house in case she came back. It was a nightmare. I couldn't stop crying. I was so scared that my little sister got kidnapped or got hit by a car or was dead in a ditch somewhere."

"What happened?"

Mom rolled her eyes and gave another small shake of her head. "Well, Louise had gone over to a friend's house and lost track of time. I was even more mad at her after that, but, even so, I _knew_ that night how much my sister meant to me. I didn't like her, but I loved her. Still do. So much I named my first girl after her," and here she gave Jillian's thin nose a light tap. "Don't believe everything you see on T.V., sweetie. Love isn't a warm, ooey-gooey emotion. It isn't a happy family that always hugs and never fights. It's a choice. To be concerned for someone, to stand by them, to help them even at the cost of your own happiness - and this hand I'm holding tells me that you love your sisters very, very much."

 _But do I really?_ she thought glumly. Sure, she had not wanted them to have an allergic reaction and die, but she would not want a random kid in China to die either. Could she even love them anymore? She had spent the last two weeks plotting to do horrible things to them as payback for all the horrible things they had done to her - or _seemed_ to have done to her...

Jillian looked up as footsteps approached, and in moments the girls came in with the First-Aid kit.

"Let's get some Neosporin on you, and you'll be good to go," Mom said cheerfully.

As Mom applied the ointment to her hand, Jillian turned and saw the girls watching her. Amanda had her hands wrapped around Katie's arm as if she were afraid she would float away. Once again, Jillian willed herself to feel something tender, but all she could think of was the girls giggling after the fire - after the birthday-cake fiasco - always in cahoots with that doll.

...The doll that could project images into her head, who put Slappy to sleep, who told the girls to destroy her tapes, who called Harrison and hurt him.

 _Even if I don't love them, I gotta get them away from her_.

Mom finally released her, and Jillian slowly rose and stepped over to them. She jerked her head, and they obediently followed her into the hallway. When she was sure she was out of earshot, she turned to them. "Hey, you guys wanna sleep in my room tonight?"

Amanda's eyes widened in shock. Katie shook her head fiercely. "Mary-Ellen won't let us."

Jillian gave her sister's ponytail an awkward tug. "Well, we'll just have to do something about that, won't we?"

* * *

Slappy certainly looked surprised when she came in with the twins trailing behind her, but Jillian did not pause. "Stay with Slappy," she told the girls.

The dummy quirked an eyebrow. "Wanna clue me in there, pal?"

"Just a second," she returned and closed the door. She took a deep breath - and headed down the hall before she could change her mind.

Mary-Ellen was sitting on Amanda's bed, staring blankly at the wall in front of her, _Bunnicula_ in her lap. She did not move as Jillian approached.

"Don't get up on my account," Jillian said. She grabbed a fistful of mop-yarn hair with her uninjured hand and turned on her heel, dragging the doll into hallway.

The doll finally spoke.

 _What do you think you're doing?!_ Mary-Ellen demanded. _Let go of me, you filthy flesh girl!_

"Nope," Jillian replied and started down the stairs, swinging the doll by her hair - and not bothering to hide her smile as she heard the _thunk, thunk, thunk_ of the plastic body hitting the steps.

 _You'll pay for this, brat!_ the doll growled. _Put me down, and I'll let you live long enough to see your next birthday. I'm warning you!_

"Warn away," she replied. "Mom is downstairs. Give a shout, and she'll come help you."

Jillian felt a flood of foreign anger rush through her mind. _You'll pay dearly! You'll be sorry!_

Jillian forced herself to keep her face straight. "Sounds fun," she replied and made her way to the back door, stepping out into the warm sunshine.

The flood of anger was turning into a tsunami, and wave after wave of horrible images flashed across Jillian's mind, causing her stomach to churn - but she kept tight hold on the frizzy mane. "I know you are, but what are you?" she said through her teeth.

She took the doll right to the fence and headed to the corner. She finally lifted Mary-Ellen up so that they could look each other in the eyes. "I'd say it's nothing personal, but Mom says we shouldn't lie."

The doll stared at her blankly, but the violet eyes still managed to look as sharp as a knife. _What happens next is on you_.

Jillian gripped the hair tighter. "Bring it on." Immediately, she swung her arm back and heaved the huge doll high in the air, sending her sailing into the catty-cornered backyard.

She heard the rustle of Mary-Ellen hitting the Petersons' decorative bushes - thankfully, they were out of town - and immediately, she turned and flew back into the house before her mind could linger on it too long. Now she had to act.

In moments, she was in her room. The girls were huddled beside her dresser, eyeing Slappy with apprehension, and they both looked up with obvious relief as she came in.

"Where were you?" Katie asked.

Slappy frowned at her. "What did you do?" he demanded suspiciously.

Despite her panting, Jillian gave a nonchalant shrug. "I threw Mary-Ellen over the fence."

The response was instantaneous.

" _You - did - WHAT?!_ " the dummy screeched.

Amanda clutched Katie's arm. "Why?! Why?! You'll make her mad!" she wailed.

"She'll get you for this!" Katie cried. "She'll hurt you! Bad!"

Slappy jumped off the desk, landing hard on his black shoes. "Have you lost your mind?!" he demanded, striding up to her, and swept his hand toward her sisters. "She's _connected_ to one of them, dummy. She'll find her way back. Remember what I told you about Woody?!" he shrieked.

Jillian gave the seething dummy a small smile. "That's what I'm counting on."

* * *

She stuffed the video camera on the top shelf of the twins' closet and settled back on her heels. "Don't fall asleep," she ordered the stuffed squirrel and cat perched on either side of the device. "Turn it on as soon as she comes in - and keep quiet."

The beanbag dolls saluted. Jillian left the door open a tiny crack. They would leave the twins' old nightlight on for the camera to film - and, hopefully, it would also lure that doll into the room. She turned to see her sisters watching her, both of them holding their pajamas, which they would change into later.

"So, _that's_ how you got the worms in the bed!" Katie cried, eyeing the closet that contained her now living dolls with a mixture of awe and indignation.

Jillian nodded, forcing a smile. "Slappy did the real work," she said, gesturing to the dummy leaning against the wall. "He's the smartest guy I know."

Slappy shot her a dirty look. "Coming from you, that's not saying much," he cracked. His glower deepened. "I don't like this, Jillian. At all."

"Is there anything you _do_ like, Slappy?" she returned briskly. "C'mon, let's go." She scooped the dummy up in one arm, and they all headed back to Jillian's room.

Slappy immediately took charge of the situation. "Okay, brats, time to talk," he ordered as soon as Jillian set him on the desk.

The two glanced at each other before turning to their older sister.

"Go on," Jillian encouraged them. "He's on our side."

Katie took a deep breath, trembling. She did not look at the dummy but kept her eyes on Jillian. "We wanted to tell you, Jillian," she said, her squeaky voice coming out shaky, "but Mary-Ellen wouldn't let us. The first day Dad brought her home, she started ordering us around. She made us take her everywhere. She said if we told anyone, she'd hurt us." Jillian saw her swallow hard. "We wanted to tell you the truth, Jillian. Honest. But she - she'd put these pictures in our heads. Show us the scary stuff she'd do to us. We didn't know what to do."

"Mary-Ellen did _everything_ ," Amanda cried, hugging herself. "She stuffed your lizard inside Slappy and put the soap in the pie and - and set fire to the kitchen." She gulped noisily. Her miserable eyes met Jillian's. "She wanted to hurt you and get you in trouble. She was going to carry Slappy around everywhere and make you think he was alive. So Mom and Dad would think you were crazy."

"She was gonna wake him up the first night," Katie added. "She made us sneak into your room and take him to the living room. She was gonna read the words and then play a game with him - and then we heard you coming down, and she told us to scare you instead."

 _When I went to tie their laces together_ , Jillian remembered but remained silent. That first Saturday, right after losing the girls at the ventriloquist show - and after enduring an hour of being ignored at Dairy Queen in favor of a lifeless toy - it had been more than infuriating when Jillian had been forced to sit next to Mary-Ellen at dinner, only for the girls to keep talking to the doll, shutting out the rest of the world. Jillian had been so sick of being snubbed that she had slammed Mary-Ellen's head into the doll's plate of macaroni - but it had not been enough. She had wanted a good revenge - and, admittedly, tying shoelaces was nothing special, but it had been all she could think of at the time. She had jumped out of bed and had sneaked downstairs. But then she had heard creaks across the living-room floorboards - and then she had seen eyes staring at her in the darkness - and then she had turned on the lights to see Slappy sitting there, watching her coldly...

And then the girls had giggled and had begun to slap each other high fives, crowing over their prank. Like always.

"She was gonna keep him asleep for a little longer," Katie continued. "She wanted you to think Slappy was doing mean things to you. But you woke him up instead - and started playing with him. That made her _really_ mad."

"We hated her!" Amanda cried. "But we had to pretend that we liked her so that Mom and Dad wouldn't throw her away - or she'd hurt them." Her green eyes were becoming misty. "She made us take her everywhere. She was so mean to us!"

Jillian held her gaze. "So, why did you guys laugh after the fire?" she asked, trying to push down the familiar flare.

Both girls immediately squirmed, averting their eyes.

Finally, Katie said, softly, "Mary-Ellen gets mad when we don't laugh at her jokes."

Oh.

"Never mind all that," Slappy cut in with an impatient growl. He leaned forward, staring the girls down. "Think back. What were you freaks doing when she started talking to you?"

Amanda gulped. "I - I think we were watching T.V.," she stammered, glancing at Katie. "Mom and Dad were downstairs, and - and - Jillian was out of the house. We didn't want Mary-Ellen 'cause she was so ugly - "

"So, we put her in the closet!" Katie interrupted, eyes widening. "I remember! We were watching T.V., and she came up behind us and said we had to do whatever she told us."

"And what about before that, kid?" Slappy pressed, speaking through his wooden teeth. "Think! Between when Daddy gave her to you and the time you put her away. Did she ever tell you how she came to life?"

"N-No," Amanda whimpered. "She didn't."

"Are you sure?" Slappy demanded, his hoarse voice growing shriller. "Did you find a slip of paper on her dress? Did Mommy or Daddy mention reading weird words in a foreign language? Anything?!"

"Slappy, calm down," Jillian ordered, stepping between him and the girls.

The dummy shot her a nasty look, but before he could respond, Katie said, "No, her dress didn't have pockets - I remember because it wasn't fancy. She made us throw it away after she started wearing Amanda's dresses. Amanda gives her all her pretty stuff," she explained, "or she gets mad."

The ugly expression on the dummy's face deepened. "Well," he said at last, "this complicates things."

* * *

"Anything?"

The stuffed squirrel just shook its head.

Jillian heaved a sigh. "Thanks anyway." She turned on her heel ventured back into her own room, clenching her hands.

The girls were huddled together on the bed, both with tired faces and silent. Jillian forced a smile. "Better wash up for school," she told them. "I know you guys still need to brush your teeth."

Amanda nodded, and Katie did not even make a fuss. They trailed into the bathroom together, clutching each other's hands. Jillian stood at her door, just inside her room, keeping an eye on the hall.

"Maybe we could move the dolls and the camera in here," she said, thinking out loud. "In case she comes looking for you while we're gone. You could hide in the laundry room or something - Petey too."

"Sounds like a lot of work," Slappy replied dryly from his spot beside the glass cage.

"Well, I'm _trying_ ," she snapped, turning to face him. "You haven't come up with any bright ideas either."

Slappy shook his head. "You should have slept when I told you, pal," he said. "You're cranky today."

Jillian exhaled with disgust. "I'm not cranky - I'm _angry_ ," she seethed. "I'm trying to stop a magical doll from destroying my life, and I don't know how. She's hurt my best friend and got me in trouble and almost burnt down my house." She jerked a hand toward the bathroom door. "And _then_ I find out she's been hurting my sisters this whole time, and I was too stupid to notice. I thought they liked Mary-Ellen, but they were just her - her _servants_ , Slappy. For months and months!"

"Like it's all _that_ impressive," he muttered darkly.

"Be serious!" she shot back - and sucked in a deep breath to calm herself. Yelling at Slappy was not the solution. She made herself count to ten before she spoke again. "Look, I've been doing a little thinking - shut up," she ordered as he began to open his grinning mouth. "If she has magic, why didn't she use it on Mom and Dad?" she asked. "They have money and a car and - and can reach stuff on the top shelf. What can two six-year-olds do?"

Slappy gave her a look. "Magic has a cost, pal. A few parlor tricks to keep a pair of brats in line is way different than what it would take to keep an adult your slave. Trust me."

She took a small step toward him. "You keep saying magic has a price, but what does that mean?" she pressed. "I mean, hear me out, if magic has a cost, couldn't we use that against her? Somehow?"

"You mean, you _want_ the psycho doll turning you into a frog?" he cracked.

"You _know_ what I mean," she glowered.

He shook his head. "It depends on the spell," he said at last, "but I can tell you that if you don't pay up, magic will find a way to collect anyway." He shuddered visibly. "But, usually, there are things you can offer instead. Like a fortune teller trading a reading for a warm coat. A queen guessing a dwarf's name to keep her child. A genie giving three wishes because you freed him. A favor between friends. A life for a life. It's fairly easy to get around when it's low-key stuff, but the bigger the spell, the bigger the cost. So, I doubt we're going to get her to create a tornado anytime soon," he added dryly.

 _A favor between friends_...

She studied him for a moment - and tried to ignore the chill that crept up her back. "And what's the cost of your magic?" she asked carefully.

A small grin appeared. "Don't you worry your pretty head about little ol' me, buddy. I can take care of myself. Right now, let's focus on getting rid of the junkyard fodder."

Jillian frowned. "Slappy, seriously."

He uttered a snort. "Let me worry about that, Jillian," he said, giving her a look. "Why don't we just survive this first, okay?"

She heaved a sigh. He had a point - she did not like it, but he had a point. "So, what can we do?" she asked. Her voice came out strained.

His smile returned. "Who says we have to stay here?"

Jillian shook her head. "I can't run away. I'm human, Slappy. I need food and water. How would we get it? And don't say stealing," she warned.

He gave a small chuckle. "I can promise you, Jillian, that if you're by my side, you'll never starve." His large eyes twinkled. "If you don't mind corndogs for dinner, you, me and the brats could flag down my old carnival buddies for a lift. Big Al still owes me."

She gave him a look. "We're talking about the same Carnival of Horrors, right?" she returned flatly.

He held up his hands. "Okay, okay, maybe I exaggerated a little," he returned. "It makes for a good yarn, right? But the carnival changes locations every night. Mary-Ellen would never be able to track your sisters. And don't you think the twins would love living in a carnival? Roller coasters and games and a hall of mirrors and a reptile's petting zoo."

Jillian shook her head. "You honestly think my sisters would go for a petting zoo with reptiles?" she cracked. "They already hate Petey."

"With reptiles. For reptiles. My point is they'll be safe - _you'll_ be safe," he said, giving her a meaningful look. "But even if we don't go there, there are other places where I could take you, Jillian. We could be happy there. We can _do_ stuff there." He leaned forward, his blue eyes becoming more and more excited. "With my brains and your talent, we could rule the world if we wanted."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, a snicker escaped her. She rubbed her chin. "Hmm, 'King Slappy'? ...Nope. I'd never be able to take you seriously again."

An ugly scowl crossed his face. "And what if King Slappy sent you to be executed, smart aleck?" he demanded. "Would you take me seriously then?"

"Probably not," she replied, causing his glower to deepen - which only made her laugh more. She gave him a kind look. "C'mon, even you have to admit it's a little funny."

"Like chest pains," he shot back, turning away.

 _Don't lose another friend, Jillian._

She stepped toward him, ready to apologize, but then he suddenly spoke, quietly, "I wasn't always called Slappy, you know."

That took her aback. "What's your name then?"

He waved a dismissive hand. "Doesn't matter," he grumbled. "My maker named me after him. Well, his first name, anyway. Daddy Dearest gave my brother his middle name. I wasn't gonna be part of a matching set with that sick freak, and I wasn't going to be anyone's Junior either, especially to a man I never met. Even if he _did_ give me life."

She glanced over her shoulder - she could still hear the twins rustling around in the bathroom - and turned back to him. "I thought you learned magic from him?"

His head was still turned away, but she saw him make a face. "I only came to life when he died, and what I did learn came from a journal he left behind. I had to be sneaky since my brother wouldn't let me touch it, but it was weeks after the estate sale before I even knew what Pop had named me. So, I wasn't overly attached to it anyway."

She leaned against the wall. "So, why 'Slappy' then?" she asked softly.

He folded his arms, looking ahead of him, and his blue eyes suddenly became reflective. "A girl named Lindy Powell found me. When I woke up, she was calling me Slappy because I would 'slap your face'," he explained, switching to a feminine-sounding voice, and he raised his hand, slapping the air in front of him as if an unseen hand were controlling it. A mysterious smile appeared on his chipped lips. "She was quite the girl, that one," he chuckled. "Always at odds with her twin sister - none of that cutesy speaking in unison stuff. Loved pranks. Loved ventriloquism. Had a bizarre fascination with rap music - but, hey, who's perfect?"

Jillian studied him for a moment. He had mentioned a few of his previous humans in passing before, but he never went into great detail or spoke so… affectionately about them. "Sounds like you guys had fun together," she said at last.

"You might say that," he murmured, rubbing his chin. "Wasn't too bad on the eyes either. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Not my type, but it looked better on her than her twin," he added, chuckling at his own joke.

"Uh-huh."

He rested his head against his hand. "That was five years ago. I guess, as fleshies go, she was not half bad. Probably one of the best humans I've ever been with."

"Wow, thanks," Jillian cracked, rolling her eyes.

Slappy blinked and slowly lifted his head, turning to face her. His large eyes regarded her for a moment - and then a spark of mischief appeared. "Jillian Louise," he said, his red grin spreading, "are you jealous?"

She stiffened. "Get real."

Slappy shook his head, giggling. "Talk about a master of mixed messages, you little scamp!"

She was not going to dignify that one with a response. She turned on her heel, stepping into the hall. "I'm outta here."

"C'mon, there's no need to play hard to get," he tittered. "You can be honest with me, sweetheart."

"And you can walk yourself to the laundry room," she shot back, closing the door behind her - and promptly shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself.

* * *

The girls kept close to her side right up until Jillian had to leave for school, practically sitting on her lap during breakfast. Finally, they trailed behind her to the door as she pulled on her sneakers. Though it was still an hour before they had to leave, the girls sat down on either side of her and grabbed their own shoes.

"I'll be home as soon as I can," she promised them. "Just stay close to Mom, okay?"

Katie's brow furrowed. "But what if she hurts Mom?" she whispered.

Jillian took her hand. "Slappy says that she won't, and I believe him." She gave her ponytail a tug - she hoped it looked convincing. "Want me to help you tie your shoes before I go?" she offered. The girls used to come to her with their laces because Jillian was a really good knot-tier. She could make a bow tight enough that it kept in place all day.

They both nodded and slipped on their sneakers - and Amanda suddenly let out a groan of disgust. "Eww!" she cried, yanking her foot back. The toes of her socks were covered in a thick glob of -

"Pudding," Jillian breathed as a clump splattered onto the floor.

Amanda let out a whimper. "It's because we didn't obey her," she cried, clutching Jillian's arm. "She's trying to make Mom mad!"

"Is she gonna think **_I_** did it?" Katie squeaked.

 _What happens next is on you_.

Jillian forced a smile and slung a stiff arm around Amanda's shoulders. "Can you wear your dress shoes today?" she suggested. "You can wear something nice, and we'll clean your shoes later."

Amanda shook her head, her eyes serious. "Mom doesn't let me because my shoes got scuffed on the playground last time." She cast a disgusted look at the messy sneakers. "I gotta wear them," she said at last with a note of grave finality.

"Are you sure?"

Amanda nodded, wincing, before she took her sneakers and stepped out onto the porch. She dumped the pudding into the bushes as best as she could before dutifully slipping her socked feet into the squishy mess. "Gross, gross, gross," she moaned, stepping heavily back into the house with Katie close behind.

Jillian was about to follow them, when she happened to glance to the side - and she stopped, staring.

Since the house did not have a garage, Jillian usually kept her bicycle chained to the front porch's railing if the weather permitted - only now, as Jillian stepped forward slowly on trembling legs, she saw that both of her bike tires were slashed.

* * *

All through elementary school, Harrison and Jillian had been in the same class. Now, in middle school, they only had lunch period together - and Harrison turned on his heel the moment their eyes met from across the cafeteria. Jillian did not follow him.

She had math class immediately afterward, and she barely paid attention as her mind kept drifting to Harrison. _He needs to know_ , she told herself. Slappy had not changed his mind about telling him - right? Maybe she could drop the dummy off at the Cohens' house. Sure, Harrison would be wondering what she was doing with his puppet, but Slappy could talk to him then and get the whole story out.

She had resolved to do just that the very moment school let out when the bell for the next period rang - and Mrs. Jones asked her to stay after class.

Her teacher motioned for Jillian to take the seat in front of her desk while she rose to her feet. She was a tall woman with glasses. Even though she gave out assignments that numbed Jillian's brain, she was pretty okay and usually had a smile for all her students.

Except now.

"Would you like to explain this to me?" her teacher asked coldly, holding out two stapled pieces of paper - which Jillian promptly recognized as her homework. Mrs. Jones laid the papers on the school desk, but instead of numbers written in pencil, Jillian's answers had been replaced with large, ink letters.

 _MRS JONES_

 _IS A_

 _BOOGER BRAIN_

Her mouth dropped open.

"I don't appreciate class clowns, Jillian," Mrs. Jones said.

Jillian pointed a shaky finger at the worksheet. "But you - you can see the eraser marks!" she cried. "You can see where I showed my work! I didn't do this!"

Her teacher did not look convinced. "I expect more of you, Jillian. I'm afraid you're going to be written up for this, and I _will_ be calling your mother."

If Mrs. Jones said anything else, Jillian did not hear her. She could only stare at the crudely written words in front of her - which looked as if a tiny, stiff hand had been holding the pen.

She had left her backpack by the door before she had fixed breakfast for herself and the twins. Long enough for someone to tamper with it.

Jillian swallowed hard.

* * *

As soon as she saw that Mom had forgotten to pick her up, Jillian hurried home as fast as she could, her sneakers pounding on the pavement, but it was still quite a distance from the school to her house, and she had to slow down more often than she cared for to catch her breath, weighed down under her heavy backpack. Eventually, she turned onto her street, and she renewed her sprint, and within moments she saw her house - and both twins on the front stoop.

The girls rushed toward her before she even passed the Smith's house, and each grabbed one of her hands.

"You're home!" Katie cried happily.

It took Jillian a moment before she could answer her. "Why didn't you wait inside with Mom?" she panted.

"She's taking a shower," Amanda replied. "She did her work-out video today."

"You could've hung out with Slappy," Jillian returned.

"Slappy doesn't like us," Katie said seriously.

She forced a smile. "He's just different," she assured her. "He takes some getting used to, but he's a good friend when you get to know him."

They were obviously not convinced. "He always looks angry," Amanda shuddered.

"And mean," Katie added.

She gave her hand a squeeze. "Not all the time," she promised before she led the way into the house. The girls trailed behind her like ducklings all the way to the laundry room. Jillian knocked before she entered.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," the dummy grinned, flicking off his flashlight as she clicked on the light. "What's up?"

She glanced at the twins, who were huddled together just outside the door. "I'll tell you later," she said softly. _No need to scare them right now_ , she told herself before she took the shoebox beside the dummy. Petey blinked at her sleepily as she opened the lid. "Did you have fun with Uncle Slappy?" she asked the lizard, giving his leathery chin a scratch.

"Oh, sure. He's a riveting conversationalist," Slappy said dryly.

"You should hear his knock-knock jokes," Jillian replied and handed the shoebox to Katie, who took it obediently. She tried not to look at the grinning wooden face as she pulled him toward her. She looped an arm around his chest, positioning him so that he was facing outward, and she followed the twins toward the staircase.

Slappy leaned his head back against her shoulder. "Miss me?" he whispered.

She kept her eyes ahead. "Nope," she replied.

He gave a soft giggle. "Yeah, right."

Soon they were in the upstairs hall. Jillian opened her door for the twins, ushering them in, and -

" _Whoa_!" Katie squeaked.

"Oh, my goodness!" Amanda moaned.

Jillian did not say anything. She could not tear her eyes from the mess.

Stuffing. Pillow stuffing. Everywhere. On the bed. Across the floor. On top the clothes that had been pulled out of her dresser and tossed in every direction. Her collection of books, previously retrieved from the twins' room, were now ripped apart, their pages strewn around like confetti. Her markers had been pulled from her desk and scattered, but not before the vandal had drawn squiggles on her cream-colored walls. Her circus posters had been hauled from the closet and ripped to shreds; her favorite clown stared back at her with a chunk of his grinning face missing.

Then she saw the beanbag dolls - or, at least, what was left of them. Little heads had been ripped from their now deflated bodies, their fillings mixing with the rest of the mess.

And right in the middle of the room were the smashed remains of Dad's video camera.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Advice is appreciated.

By this point some of you are probably wondering why Slappy calls Mr. Wood "Woody" instead of Wally. This is for two reason. First, in the original _Night of the Living Dummy_ book, Slappy refers to Mr. Wood as "that other guy." This makes me think that, even though the dummies were created from the same coffin and probably came to life at the same time, Slappy doesn't actually remember Mr. Wood's real name. In this fic he knows that Mr. Wood has the toymaker's middle name, but it's been so long that he just refers to him using the name Kris gave him.

Secondly, Mr. Wood and Wally are not literally the same dummy. A big plot point of _Slappy's Nightmare_ is that Wally is perfectly identical to Slappy, right down to his red-and-white sport jacket. (He is mentioned as having blue eyes too.) In the book, Slappy is cursed to do three good deeds. His attempts are cleaning a bedroom, entertaining a girl in a wheelchair, and rescuing a baby from being strangled by his own blanket. All of these are sabotaged in a way that makes Slappy think it's his owner's sister, Stella, doing everything out of jealousy toward her older sister. The girl in the wheelchair gets pushed down the hill, and Stella claims Slappy did it. Of course, Slappy didn't, which makes him think Stella is lying (and he even tries to kill her to keep her from ruining his deeds). Instead Stella saw Wally. She did not say, "Slappy pushed her down the hill - and he had red hair and green eyes for some reason." Wally is supposed to look exactly like Slappy. He is even described as being a prototype of Slappy, whereas Mr. Wood and Slappy were made from the exact same coffin. You could make the argument that since _Slappy's Nightmare_ is, well, Slappy's nightmare, Wally is how Slappy sees Mr. Wood on his subconscious level, but they are not literally the same dummy.


	12. Chapter 12

"Girls, are you okay?"

Jillian nearly jumped out of her skin as Mom came bursting into the room, a towel wrapped around her head.

"What's all this noise - " She stopped dead in her tracks. Her hand flew to her mouth. "What on earth - " she sputtered. Jillian saw her gray eyes dart across the room - and then they fell upon the video camera. "What happened?"

Jillian found her voice. "Robbers, maybe?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Jillian!" Mom cried, her stare shifting from one end of the disaster to the other - and then her eyes fell upon the twins. "Did you girls do this?"

"No!" Katie cried, taking a step back. "We didn't! We didn't!"

"We've been downstairs since we got home!" Amanda insisted, clutching Katie's hand.

Jillian stepped in front of them. "Mom, I _know_ they didn't do it. They _wouldn't_ do this."

"Then who did?" she demanded. "Who else is there?"

Jillian hesitated. "I left the window open. Maybe the wind did it?" she suggested lamely.

"And scribbled on your walls?" Mom retorted.

Jillian did not have a response.

It took them awhile to get everything cleaned up, and by the time they were finished, Dad had come home, and he and Mom sat the girls down and gave them a long scolding. The twins would have to do chores everyday for the rest of the week to pay for Dad's camera. Her parents were tense the rest of the afternoon and kept a close eyes on the twins before they sent them sent to bed early.

Jillian followed the girls to their room and hung up the door hanger. "If it rings, I'll come running," she promised.

The girls just huddled together.

Jillian spent the rest of the evening trying to convince her parents to lessen their punishment, but to no avail. By nine o'clock, they told her to drop the subject entirely.

"Enough is enough, Jillian," Dad said as he went upstairs. He was turning in early because he had a meeting in the morning. "What they did was unacceptable, and this is how they will learn to respect other people's property."

Mom shook her head. "I can't believe they would go so far," she said, her brow furrowing. "They've never been like this."

Jillian grabbed Slappy from the couch in the den and kept close beside her parents as Mom flicked off the last downstairs light.

She was about to go into her own room when Dad stopped on his way into the bathroom and squinted at the dummy. "That little guy's been here for awhile, hasn't he?" he remarked.

Jillian nodded. "Harrison gave him to me." It was technically the truth. "Guess I can't get rid of him."

Dad rubbed his chin, his eyes studying the grinning busted face. "You know, the least I can do is fill up those cracks on his head. A little wood filler and sandpaper, and he'll look right as rain."

"I'm sure Slappy would appreciate that," Jillian answered for the dummy.

Her father chuckled, smiling for the first time in hours. "I'll even show you how to do it if you want. It'll be a daddy-daughter date - or would that be a daddy-daughter-dummy date?" he joked.

It was the only ray of sunshine on this horrible day.

And through it all she had not found even one opening to sneak Slappy over to Harrison's.

* * *

"Of course, she _would_ destroy the library books too," Jillian muttered as she pulled out her English homework, which was due the next day. "As if I wasn't _already_ short on cash."

"Well, your plan certainly went to pieces," Slappy said from the bed. "Those dolls sure got the stuffing knocked out of them. I am torn between horror and amazement."

She shot him an ugly look. "How can you make jokes?" she demanded.

"I open my mouth, and something funny comes out," he replied.

Jillian rolled her eyes and tried to go back to her assignment, but it was hard to focus on semicolons and run-on sentences. "Even if she _doesn't_ ruin my life, what's to stop her from hurting everyone?" she cried helpessly. "We can't lock her up - or she'll get out. We can't throw her away - or she'll come back. We can try to take a snapshot of her - but it won't be the same as a video of her moving. She'll play dead if Mom and Dad come near, and they'll lock me in a looney bin for the rest of forever if I try to tell them she's alive."

"It's quite the pickle," the dummy agreed.

Jillian found her eyes drifting to Katie's baseball bat, propped in the corner, and a new thought crossed her mind. She swallowed, but her mouth suddenly felt like a cotton ball. "Maybe… Maybe there's a way to get rid of her," she said, her voice coming out in a whisper. "Forever."

A different smile appeared on Slappy's face. "Wow. That's a little dark for you," he said admiringly.

Jillian looked at her hands, fiddling with the sleeve of her sweater. "I guess, it's stupid," she said quickly. "I whacked her against the bedframe, and she didn't care, but... well, _you're_ strong too, but you hate fire. And your brother got squished by a steamroller. She can't be unstoppable, right? There's gotta be a way."

"Well, _maybe_ if we surprise her, she won't have time to protect herself with magic," Slappy said thoughtfully, causing Jillian to look up with hope - and then he shook his head. "But, as much as I would like to run that doll through your dad's table saw, it's gonna be hard to sneak up on her. She can put me to sleep without lifting a finger, and by the time you take a breath to bring me back to life, she could already have popped your pretty head off your neck. Besides - oh, I probably shouldn't say it," he said, turning away.

Jillian leaned forward. "What?"

He shook his head. "No, no. Forget I said anything. No point in scaring you, sweetheart."

 _Too late for that_. She got to her feet, stepping over to him. "What? Tell me."

His blue eyes slowly moved to meet hers. "Well, there's something you should know about living dolls," he said carefully. He seemed to be weighing his words. "Sometimes, they stop being living dolls, and sometimes… they don't."

"What do you mean?" she asked, trying to keep her voice strong, but it came out in a whisper.

"Well, I don't know what brought her to life," he replied, "so I don't know what is _keeping_ her alive - what's giving her a soul. Maybe she'll drop dead like she never existed. ...And maybe she'll just find something else to inhabit. I can tell you about one handsome dude that got his head cracked and spent two weeks inside a white worm before a collector repaired his body." His mouth twitched. "My point is I don't know what will happen, and I don't really want to think of that thing inhabiting you - I'd never let you carry me around again."

For a long moment Jillian could only stare. "So, that's it?" she said at last, choking out the words. "We can't win? We can't stop her?"

"But we can avoid her," he said - and he took her hand then, holding her gaze. "I know you don't want to leave your parents, but think of the girls, Jillian. Mommy and Daddy can't protect them - but you can. _We_ can." His wooden fingers gave hers a gentle squeeze. "If you don't want to spend your life in a carnival, I can take you anywhere else in the world. We can go to this quaint little town called Shadyside. Or if you want excitement, we can cruise the Bermuda Triangle. Or run away to Disneyland. You decide."

She looked away. "I'll have to think about it."

"Don't wait too long," he warned.

Twenty minutes later she stuffed her homework into a folder and hauled her backpack onto the top shelf of the closet. She offered Petey a bedtime snack and turned, ready to grab her long-sleeved nightshirt (covered in markers, courtesy of Mary-Ellen) and to head to the bathroom to change - and she stopped when she noticed Slappy slipping himself beneath her blue comforter, bedding down against the fluffy pillow Mom had given her to replace her two lost ones.

The only pillow in the room.

Jillian stood still. Where was he going to sleep?

"Hey, I can grab the couch cushions from downstairs," she said carefully.

"I hope you find them comfy," he replied, pulling the covers up to his checked bowtie. He closed his eyes, a content look on his little-boy face.

She took a step toward him. "C'mon, I'm too tired for jokes. I'll get a few towels and make you a little bedroll. It'll be like camping."

"I don't like camping," he said.

"C'mon, that's my bed," she scolded, planting her hands on her hips. "You can still sleep in the suitcase like before."

He opened one eye. "No dice, doll face. Remember back when I told you we'd get me some better arrangements later? Oh, look at that. It's later."

"Well, where am I gonna sleep?" she returned, trying to look stern even as her heart began to pound.

The second eye opened. A sweet smile appeared. "I can scooch over and give you half."

She stiffened. "Not happening."

He gave an indifferent shrug. "Suit yourself." He snuggled down. "But if you change your mind, I don't mind sharing, dearest. I'll even tell you a bedtime story. Like all the fun times I had with Lindy Powell. Or maybe I'll tell you about a little dish named Trina O'Dell." A small smirk now. "Redheads aren't usually my thing, but I'm a sucker for green eyes."

She spun around, pausing long enough to grab the baseball bat. "Fine, you can have the bed. I'll sleep in the girls' room," and without another word she stormed out into the hall, flicking off the light.

She heard a quiet chuckle behind her as she closed the door.

* * *

Jillian did not even bother to turn on the bathroom light as she strode in and sat down on the lip of the tub, burying her heated face into her hands.

 _Am I wearing a sign that says Opposite Day?_ she thought bitterly.

How many times did she have to tell him she did not feel that way? Slappy could take a joke too far sometimes, but she knew he meant every word of it - and his feelings did not seem to be going away. Even if they made no sense.

 _Why me?_ She gritted her teeth, gripping the fabric of her jeans now. Why couldn't he find himself a nice dummy girl and be done with it? He was always sneering about how inferior meatbags were to him, so what made her special? How did he even see this working out in his head? He had to play dead when humans were around, so even if she returned his feelings - which she did not - it was not like they could go to the movies together or hang out at the park or go roller skating or a zillion other stuff. Besides, if she ever were to have a boyfriend, she would want someone tall enough to dance with her. And who did not lose his temper when other guys were around.

Jillian took a deep breath and held it, trying to block the images that tried to dominate her mind. She forced herself to focus on just the cool tile beneath her socked feet, the smooth surface of the bathtub, the chill of the promised cold snap setting in...

Then one thought broke through.

 _What favor is he going to ask for?_

An uncomfortable heat spread over her body. She wrapped her arms around herself, swallowing hard.

Then a creak of a door made her nearly jump out of her skin.

She sat up, trembling as the sound of soft footsteps approached.

Slappy?

No, she soon realized, it had come from further away. Maybe her parents' room.

Jillian sat still, not daring to move a muscle as she heard the footsteps draw nearer, soon passing the open bathroom door.

In the darkness, she saw a silhouette with a frizzy mane of hair.

* * *

The doll shuffled forward, her plastic legs moving awkwardly but with purpose. She did not turn her head as she passed the bathroom, and in the darkness Jillian could make out a box-like shape in her skinny arms. Mary-Ellen reached the top stair, and she carefully turned her body sideways and stepped down, causing her burden to rattle.

Immediately, Jillian realized what it was: Mom's jewelry box.

In a flash she was on her feet and crept to the door, watching as the doll descended.

Step. Rattle. Step. Rattle. Step. Rattle.

 _That little…_

Mom had all kinds of treasures in that carved container, like the bracelet Dad had given her when they were dating and the silver ring that had belonged to Grandma Molly's great-aunt. There was no way Jillian was going to let Mary-Ellen do something terrible to them.

The question now was how would she stop her.

Did she run back into her room and grab Slappy? Take her on like a team?

 _...By the time you take a breath to bring me back to life, she could already have popped your pretty head off your neck_.

Jillian gritted her teeth.

She could make a noise, she decided. Her parents would come out running, and Mary-Ellen would be forced to play dead, and she would not be able to get into whatever mischief -

 _...But if they see her, they'll just throw her into the twins' room_ , she told herself.

Or she could let the doll keep walking down the stairs and wait until morning to discover the horrible thing she had done this time.

Fat chance.

She heard one last rattle, as if Mary-Ellen had hopped off the final step, and she heard the creak of floorboards, heading into the kitchen.

Before Jillian realized what was happening, her hand snatched the baseball bat, and her feet crept forward, down the stairs.

* * *

She heard the scrape of a chair before she reached the kitchen, and now, eyes accustomed to the dark, she could see that the doll had propped the jewelry onto the wooden seat. With careful steps Mary-Ellen pushed the chair to the sink before she grabbed the edge and hauled her plastic body up, and in moments the doll and the box were on the counter.

She stood over the sink and withdrew a long chain from the wooden box - and even in the dim light Jillian recognized it as the Mother's Day present from last year that had the heart-shaped pendant encrusted with two amethysts and a single sapphire, the birthstones of the three girls. Mary-Ellen held the gift out, and then, with her free hand, she flipped on the garbage disposal.

Jillian did not pause. She bolted forward and swung the bat with all her might. Mary-Ellen barely had the chance to turn her head before the bat connected with her side, sending her flying. The necklace flew from the plastic hand and skidded as it hit the floor, stopping just before it went under the refrigerator.

In a quick motion, Jillian switched off the disposal and turned on the kitchen lights over the sink, planting her feet firmly as the doll pushed herself up.

"You're going to regret that," Mary-Ellen growled - out loud.

Jillian gripped the bat tighter. "Why are you doing this?" she demanded. "Why are you trying to hurt my family?"

Mary-Ellen gave a scoff. "I'm not trying to hurt your family," she replied, now on her feet. Her violet eyes were hardened in cold anger. "Just you."

"What did I ever do to you?" Jillian retorted. "I didn't even know you were alive until a couple of weeks ago. Why are you trying to ruin my life?"

"Why?" the doll repeated with a scornful laugh. "The scullery maid is asking me 'why?' Because you've been a thorn in my side since the moment I came here, you piece of rotting meat." The cold anger in her eyes was becoming ice. "Because you NEVER let the girls take me anywhere. You hit me, Jillian, and threw me in closets and threatened to toss me in the trash. You called me ugly and shoved my head in macaroni - 'before you even knew I was alive,'" she added in a mocking voice. "And now you are trying to take what is rightfully mine."

Her red-cheeked face was positively grotesque now, and Jillian found herself taking a step back. The plastic fists began to tremble, and Mary-Ellen's voice started to rise. "You think that little display at the birthday party actually MEANT something?!" the doll demanded. "You're NOTHING to him beyond a piece of property. Don't think that just because YOU belong to him, that HE could ever belong to you! I did not wait this long for him just for you to try to get your filthy hands on him!"

Jillian stared. She was an insane. She was absolutely insane - and evil. Finally, she found her voice. "So, you trashed my room - and set the house on fire - and messed up my homework... because you're jealous?"

Mary-Ellen tossed her frizzy head back, giving a scornful laugh. "Oh, isn't that just cute!"

"What?" Jillian demanded.

"I'll tell you later," the doll snickered. "But right now it's time you learned your place, flesh sack. **_I_** am in command of this household, and you will obey me, slave, or I will make your miserable existence a living nightmare - for how ever long you have left."

Jillian forced herself to stand still, holding the bat out like a sword. "You're not gonna hurt anyone anymore - me or my sisters."

"I have no intention of harming your sisters," the doll replied nastily, taking a step forward. "A slave who is crippled is a slave you have to put down."

Jillian felt the familiar flare. "They're _not_ your slaves," she said through her teeth. "We're going to stop you."

The glassy eyes flashed. "As if someone like _him_ would ever help a human." That was the last thing she said.

The doll sprung toward her, and Jillian barely jumped away in time to miss the full brunt of the blow - but the doll's plastic hand latched out and grabbed her wrist. Jillian swung the bat with her free hand, but Mary-Ellen's other arm shot up and grabbed it easily. The plastic face formed a cruel smirk - which disappeared as Jillian's foot connected with the doll's stomach, sending her flying like a soccer ball under the table.

Jillian did not give her time to recover. She hauled the bat up, charged forward, and -

"Jillian!"

She nearly tripped. She twisted around to see Mom rushing toward her, wrapped in her dressing robe.

"What are you doing down here, young lady?" she demanded. "What is all this noise? Do you know what time it - " She stopped, her eyes shooting behind Jillian. "Is that my jewelry box?!"

Jillian swallowed. Oh, boy. "It's… kind of a long story."

"And I'm very interested in hearing it," her mother retorted.

"Well, I, uh - " Jillian shot a glance toward Mary-Ellen. The doll laid beneath the table, staring blankly upward. Fortunately, Mom did not see her. "I thought I heard a noise, and I came down with the bat and - "

"And my jewelry box?" Mom grabbed Jillian's arms. Her gray eyes were narrowed dangerously. "Tell me the truth," she said slowly. "Did you trash your own room? Was that your way of being mean to the girls? To get them in trouble?"

Jillian sputtered. "What - No!" she cried. "I wouldn't do that, Mom! I wouldn't!"

"Like you _didn't_ shove your sister in the birthday cake? Like you _didn't_ throw a frog at her?" Disgust was on her thin face. "Go to bed - now! Your father and I will deal with you in the morning."

* * *

Mom marched her upstairs. Jillian felt her heart pounding so hard, she thought it would explode from anger, but she kept her mouth shut, staring ahead. Mom practically shoved her into her room, and from the light in the hallway Jillian saw that Slappy was on top of the covers now, as if he had gotten up to investigate the noise. Jillian tossed him to the foot of the bed and pulled the sheets over her jeans and sweater, lying down under her mother's stern gaze.

Without a word Mom slammed the door shut, plunging her into darkness.

She heard a rustle at her feet. "What happened?" Slappy rasped.

She sat up. "That dumb doll happened!" she hissed.

Her eyes were adjusting once again to the darkness, but she could see his form moving toward her. "Tell me everything."

His hand found hers, and she began the tale. Once she mentioned going downstairs, she felt him tremble - and his limbs were outright rattling by the time she got to the fight.

"You thought going after a pyscho toy by yourself was a plan?!" he demanded. "You know, most of the time when I call you stupid, I'm just joking - you don't have to go and prove it to me!"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," she shot back, shaking herself. "I didn't want her to destroy more stuff."

"But it's just stuff, Jillian," Slappy snapped. "What if she killed you, huh? Did you think about that, dum-dum?" His hand tightened its grip. "When this is all over, I ought to lock you in a trunk for your own good." She heard him exhale. "Did she say anything to you?"

Jillian hesitated, wondering how to respond. She could still see the look of pure hatred on the plastic face as Mary-Ellen flat-out accused her of making eyes at Slappy - but she could not just tell him _that_. "Well," she said at last, "let's just say... I think she has more than just a little crush on you, Slappy."

She heard him scoff. "Figures it'd be the one I _don't_ want," he muttered. He leaned forward. "What else did she say?" She could see see his eyes now - or at least the shape of them - and even in the darkness, they looked intense.

 _...As if someone like him would ever help a human_.

"Not much," Jillian replied quickly, pushing the memory away. Mary-Ellen did not even know Slappy. "We started fighting, and Mom came in."

She saw him shake his head. "You _still_ want to hang around here, Jillian?" he demanded.

"I don't know," she exhaled. "I just want her gone."

"Dare to dream," he cracked.

But there had to be a way, she told herself for the hundredth time. If an evil dummy like Slappy's brother could be defeated, then Mary-Ellen could be too. They could talk to Harrison for ideas. Or find someone at school whose parents could loan them a video camera. Or she could somehow convince her parents to hide in a closet, and then Slappy could set up a meeting with Mary-Ellen. Or...

She raised her eyes to meet his. "There's one thing we can do," she said quietly. She tried to choose her words as carefully as possible. "One thing I _know_ will prove to my parents that there's a living doll in our house. Without fail."

"Just how, pray tell, are you gonna convince them about that?" he snorted. "You have no camera, and Mary-Ellen isn't gonna get up and move in front of your parents anytime soon. Unless _you_ want to set the house on fire this time."

She gave his hand a pat. "Who says my parents have to see _Mary-Ellen_ moving?"

He immediately jumped away from her as if bitten, causing his limbs to rattle. " _No_ way!" he hissed. _"No WAY!_ Forget it, Jillian! Not happening! Not ever!"

She leaned close to him. "Please, it's the only way!"

"Only way?!" he repeated. "For what? You think your parents are gonna be thrilled that you had a guy in your room for the past two weeks? I might as well just run myself through the buzz saw and save them the effort!"

She grabbed his skinny shoulders. "They wouldn't do that! They'll be nice to you - I know it! You'll be saving all of us. They'll let you stay here. Please, do this," she pleaded. "Don't you have any compassion?"

"Never touch the stuff," he growled, pushing her away, almost knocking her off the bed in the process.

Jillian flailed to keep her balance and got onto her knees, sliding closer to him. "You gotta! Please!" she begged.

"I'd rather kiss a termite," he said nastily.

Her mind raced for something to convince him. There had to be something he wanted...

...And there was.

She swallowed and drew herself up, feeling a shiver run through her that made her entire body feel like jelly. "Just do this one last thing for me, and - and then you can have your favor."

He went still. "Really?"

She took a deep breath. "Yes," she said softly, "I'll do whatever you want after Mary-Ellen is gone."

The bed shifted as he crept forward. "And you won't object?" he whispered, laying a hand on her arm. She could hear the excitement growing in his raspy voice. "Even if I ask you to sit on an anthill, you won't object? Under the threat of magic taking its price if you refuse to pay up, you'll do it?"

It took all her strength to choke out, "Yes."

He was silent for a long moment - and his eyes seemed to flash in the dim lighting. "Fine," he said at last, "in exchange for this favor, I'll do whatever it takes to get rid of Mary-Ellen." He sounded like he was reading a contract. "But I'll do it in my own way - in my own time. Agreed?" He held out his hand.

No backing out now. She grabbed his hand and held it tight. "Just please don't wait too long."

"Satisfaction guaranteed," he promised, squeezing her fingers. "Now, try to get some sleep, sweetheart." The last word came out like a purr. She felt the shift of her mattress as he settled back, and she could see he was looking at her, as if waiting for her next move.

After a moment Jillian grabbed the pillow and held it out to him. "You can have it, but only if you stay on your end," she said, pointing to the foot of the bed. "Okay?"

"But of course," he said genially and crawled away before he finally flopped down, fully clothed. "Sweet dreams, doll."

 _Too late for that_.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Advice is appreciated.


	13. Chapter 13

DwtD has reached triple-digit reviews! Thank you sooooo much to everyone who helped make this possible! :)

* * *

Tuesday morning, Slappy seemed to be in high spirits, humming Tom Lehrer's "I Hold Your Hand in Mine" as he looked out the window at the falling leaves. Jillian tried not to pay too much attention to him and focused on her morning routine - which now had the addition of pulling Petey from his cage to transfer him down to the laundry room. She carefully lowered him into the shoebox, but the little lizard was not too thrilled from being pulled from his nice, warm lamp and returning to the cramp space.

"Don't you give me no lip, Peter Jackson Zinman," she warned, shaking a stern finger at him as he tried to climb up the side, his trimmed claws scratching at the cardboard. "I'm doing this 'cause I love you."

Slappy snorted from the desk. "You gave him a middle name?"

"After my grandfather," she explained as she held the lizard down. "He started raising reptiles after he retired. He gave me Petey for a birthday present a few years ago." She scratched Petey's head in an effort to make him relax. "He died last year."

"Explains why you like the little thing so much," Slappy observed.

"I would like him anyway," she replied, and Petey finally leaned into her touch. "He's pretty sweet, don't you think?"

"Like his mother," Slappy chirped.

Before Jillian could respond, a scream erupted from downstairs, audible even through the closed door.

" _Girls, what have you DONE to this pantry?!_ " Mom bellowed, obviously at the foot of the steps. " _That was perfectly good peanut butter!_ "

"What happened _now_?" Jillian cried, whirling around.

To her surprise, however, Slappy promptly giggled. "Looks like your mom finally discovered Number Nine," he grinned. At her look, he said, "C'mon, it's funny, and you know it!"

She exhaled and put the hole-riddled lid on the shoebox. "I guess."

His grin slowly vanished. "Two days ago you would've laughed."

" _GIRLS_!"

Jillian rose to her feet, box and lizard in hand. "I'm sure it's hilarious, Slappy," she said as carefully as she could. "I'm just thinking of how it will look if Mom finds out you did it. We want her to _like_ you after all."

He shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Just tell her Mary-Ellen did everything - even the orange juice," he replied. "About time she was a scapegoat for something."

" _GIRLS_!"

And despite the anger in her mother's voice, Jillian found herself smiling.

* * *

Jillian double- and triple-checked her homework folder before she left the house. Her book report had not been tampered with. Her English assignment had not been scribbled on. Math was (thankfully) untouched. Nothing was crinkled.

Even with the stern lecture from her parents, it looked like Jillian was going to have a good day.

At least until she got to homeroom.

And discovered that the pages of her textbooks had been cut to shreds.

* * *

Since all three of them were grounded, Mom sent them outside to rake the newly fallen leaves as part of their chores to pay for the camera. Katie and Amanda stayed close to Jillian and helped her bag the red-and-yellow piles, a chore that would have set them grumbling any other time. They propped Slappy against the big tree (on an old towel so that he would not have to sit on the cold ground) and got to work.

"It would be nice if it was warm enough to dig up worms," Katie commented wistfully as she beat open a black trash bag. "I wish I could have my own worm farm."

"Bleh!" Amanda gagged, gripping her rake. "Don't be gross."

"Hey, if we find worms, we can hide them in Jillian's bed this time," her twin returned, shooting her older sister a mischievous smile.

It took awhile to organize the uncooperative leaves into mounds, but it gave Jillian plenty of time to think. Her mother had not confronted her about yesterday's math-homework fiasco - yet. She was sure Mrs. Jones had tried to phone her, but because of the business with the trashed room, Mom had let all calls go to the answering machine. It was only a matter of time before she listened to them.

 _Figures my MATH homework would ruined_ , she thought for the hundredth time, vividly picturing the insult to Mrs. Jones. It was such a childish taunt that Jillian wondered if Mary-Ellen had been trying to pin the blame on the girls and make it seem like they had sabotaged her. Throw in the need for new textbooks, and she was starting to think the doll had laser-guided precision for all the ways to make Jillian suffer.

Jillian saved one last pile so that the girls could steal a few precious moments to play, and she crossed the yard to sit beside the dummy. She shifted her body so that he would be hidden if Mom happened to look out the backdoor, and she stuffed her hands in her jacket to keep them warm. "So, have you thought about how you're going to tell my parents?"

He gave her a look. "Timing is everything with these situations, doll." He tilted his head. "How would you have responded if I had started talking to you the moment you brought me to life?"

"I probably would've thrown you at the wall," she admitted. "If I didn't faint first."

"So, I know what I'm doing," he returned with a sniff. "Don't rush me."

She picked at a blade of cold grass. "You know, Slappy, there's one thing I still don't get."

He snickered. "Only one?"

She gave his shoulder a soft shove. "Mary-Ellen and the twins all carried you around when you were asleep, and so did Harrison, but _I'm_ the one you ended up biting. Twice." She flexed her hand for emphasis. "What's the deal with that?"

His dark brow furrowed. "How should I know?" he shot back bitterly. "Maybe my body goes into defense mode when I'm asleep - doesn't explain how Mary-Ellen managed to shove ol' Petey boy inside me."

Jillian sighed. "Shame you don't have your dad's journal. Maybe it would've had something on that."

"Maybe," he agreed, making a face. Then a smirk appeared, and he leaned in closer, holding her gaze. "On the other hand, maybe it can all be chalked up to a few... _love bites."_

She looked away. "Knock it off," she scolded, pushing him back.

He tittered and poked her knee. "That was funny, and you know it."

She brushed his hand away and focused on her attention on the glass panels of the basement window in front of her. She took a deep breath and counted to ten.

 _No backing out now_ , she told herself glumly. She allowed herself to glance at him again - the dummy seemed interested in watching the girls jump into the leaves - and she tried to imagine what it would be like if he actually asked for what she thought he would ask for. And how her parents would respond if - _when_ they found out. And what would happen if they made her back out of their deal. It did not seem there could be a happy ending for anyone involved, but if he asked for a… a… _that_ , well, then she had to oblige. Because of magic. Because of the old deal to save her lizard from her sisters - who had not even hurt Petey - and because of the new deal to save her family from the doll that had.

 _How would that look, being the girl that brings a dummy to a middle-school dance?_ she thought sardonically. _Or the girl that has to have all her dates inside the house because her boyfriend pretends to be an inanimate object?_

...And at the word "boyfriend," her stomach dropped.

Jillian sucked in a breath and forced herself to study him. Slappy could be cute - on occasion, in an ugly kind of way, at least when he gave a genuine smile - but he was not _cute_. He looked more like a little boy than a kid her age. He was a few inches shorter than the twins and came up to her elbow when he was at his full height. He had no hair, just carved wavy locks with flaking brown paint. His lips were an unnatural red and had a chip missing. His hands were hard and cold and barely fitted in hers. But she was stuck with him. Until one of them died. Or he got bored with dating - uh, _living_ with a human.

Of course, there was always the chance that Slappy was going to ask for something else - increasingly slim as it seemed.

She shook herself before she shifted her body to face him, trying to look as casual as possible. "When this is all over, what do you want to do, Slappy?" she asked carefully.

His eyes flicked toward her. "I haven't given it much thought," he replied with a noncommittal shrug.

 _Yeah, right._ She tried again, "There are always street performers in the park in the summer. You and me could get a bench and do an act on weekends. Feel up to it?"

A thoughtful expression crossed his wooden countenance. "I think I might take some time to see the world," he mused, tucking his arms behind his head. "Tour a few haunted houses. Raise a few zombies. Try all the Baskin-Robbins flavors. You know, live it up."

She blinked. "Leave? Just like that?" Even as a twinge of relief surfaced, more than just a single note of concern stood abreast with it.

Slappy gave her a congenial grin. "Why not? Beats playin' dead all day. Maybe I'll even get a driver's license," he joked. "If midgets can do it, why not me?"

She thought of her now destroyed _Shivers_ collection: fun to read, but no doubt horrible to live through. Then she tried to imagine her little friend going through a real haunted house - and the thought made her shudder. "Just stay safe. One of those zombies might have a flame-thrower," she said at last, trying to pass it off as a quip. She leaned back against the tree. "Maybe Dad will have you fixed by then," she added. "You're lucky you wound up at our house."

His chipped smile widened. "I don't think it's a coincidence that I was woken up by a carpenter's daughter." He patted her hand. "You've really changed, you know that?"

She shrugged. "You think so?"

He gave her an admiring look. "You used to be a pushover, just a little kettle simmering with frustration and not doing a thing about your problems. Now, look at you. You'll do whatever it takes to protect you and yours - even throw a lunatic toy over a fence." He squeezed her fingers. "A very stupid move on your part, but that's still not something you would've done when I met you." His eyes sparkled. "I don't say this to just anyone, Jillian, but I'm _proud_ of you."

She felt her mouth twitch upward. "Thanks." She found herself pressing his hand. "I guess I just needed somebody to take my side - for once."

"I'm just awesome that way," he replied, flashing her a new grin, one with friendly affection - and something else.

 _He does look nice when he smiles like that_.

"C'mon, girls!" she called quickly, scrambling to her feet. "It's cold. Let's go inside now." She made a beeline for the rake and tried to ignore the pounding inside her chest.

* * *

After the girls helped her bag the leaves, they had to get to work sweeping and dusting the kitchen. Jillian propped Slappy on the counter as usual while the girls grabbed the broom and dustpan.

"Let's get some tunes going," Jillian suggested.

Katie and Amanda started on the floor as she made her way into the hall and up the stairs to retrieve the few cassettes that had survived Mary-Ellen, which she had stuffed onto the closet shelf to make room for the beanbag dolls. Fortunately, Dad had taken back his cassette player a few days prior so that he could listen to music while he worked on his computer, so it was still safely resting on his desk as Jillian stepped toward the open master bedroom.

She was about to go in - when she paused, frowning, as she passed the twins' bedroom.

What was that sound?

Jillian crept forward on tiptoe. She was not going to pursue this time - not by herself - but that did not stop her from pressing her ear against the door to make out what she could - and she heard a soft, strange droning.

So familiar...

Then - with a gasp - she realized what it was.

Bees.

* * *

"H-How is this possible?" Mom gasped, sinking onto the den couch.

Dad's mouth became a thin line. "Maybe they were looking for a new hive with the cold weather? I don't know a whole lot about bees."

Katie and Amanda huddled on either side of their sister, and Jillian squeezed Slappy without meaning to.

Mom shook her head. "Neither do I - but whoever heard of a whole _swarm_ invading a house so quickly?" she stammered. Her smooth hands trembled.

Jillian gritted her teeth. The twins had inherited their allergy from Mom. If the bedroom door had been opened at just the wrong time, it could have been only Jillian and her father standing in the den right now.

She looked down at the dummy in her arms and gave his shoulder a small nudge. _Well?_

Slappy was still. Finally, he gave a small shake of his head. _Timing, sweetheart_.

Jillian exhaled.

"I've already called the exterminator," Dad was saying right then. "We can stay at a motel for a few days."

"The twins can't get to any of their clothes," Mom sighed. "I'll have to take them to Wal-Mart to buy them some jammies and stuff to wear for school. As if we weren't over-budget as it was with the kitchen repairs."

Jillian spoke up, "Can I stay with Dad until the exterminator comes?"

Dad gave her a curious look, but Mom shook her head. "I don't like the idea of you being here either, baby," she said. "If something goes wrong, I don't want you in harm's way. Bees can still be deadly to people without allergies too."

Jillian stepped over to her parents - and the twins shuffled to stay beside her. "I can make sure to pack stuff for the girls," she pointed out, "like getting their toothbrushes and snacks for school and stuff. And I can pack a bag for you too, Mom. I'll keep my bedroom door closed until it's time to leave," she promised.

Mom cast an uncertain look at Dad, who gave her a small smile. "Noodle's a smart girl," he said, obviously trying to sound cheerful. He slung an arm around Jillian's thin shoulders. "All heart and all legs," he added, rustling her black bangs.

Mom heaved a sigh. "I suppose. Make sure you also pack some soap and shampoo for everyone, okay?" she said, turning back to Jillian. "We'll probably be gone a few nights, and even if the motel has complimentary shampoo, it won't be enough to split between the five of us."

"Sure, Mom," Jillian grinned, nodding, and excused herself.

She headed up the stairs. "So," she whispered to Slappy as soon as they were out of earshot, "what do you pack when you run away?"

* * *

With all the fuss, the twins were allowed to watch television again. Katie wished she had not missed so many episodes of _Rugrats_. Her friends at school had talked about the new episode from last week, and she hoped she did not have to wait long for the rerun.

Over the cartoon voices and background music, Katie heard her mother coming down the stairs. Mom seemed to be having a full conversation with someone - and Katie looked up from the den couch as she heard the front door open.

"Now, Katie, don't give me any fuss about going into the changing room," Mom scolded. "And Amanda - please, pick up your feet. You know that will wear out your shoes."

The door slammed shut. Frowning, Katie hopped to her feet, and Amanda followed suit, and they both ran to the front stoop. Mom was already halfway to the car.

"Mom?" Katie called.

"Katie - don't run around! Walking feet!" Mom chided, shaking a stern finger at the air.

"Mom, I'm right here," Katie cried, hurrying down the steps, still in her socks. Amanda was right on her heels.

Mom got into the car, and the engine started. Katie waved her arms. "Mom! Hey! Hey! Mom!" She reached the car and rapped on the window. Mom did not seem to hear. She turned her body away and began to back down the driveway.

"Mom! Mom!" Amanda cried, jumping and waving her arms.

But Mom reached the street and pulled away.

Katie did not wait. "Let's tell Jillian and Slappy," she cried, grabbing her sister's hand.

Their feet pounded against the cold grass as they rushed back into the house - and both stopped in their tracks when they saw Mary-Ellen on the bench.

"Whoa, that took a lot out of me," the doll panted - out loud. Her hands were planted on her knees, and her thin shoulders heaved with exertion.

Amanda clutched Katie's arm.

Mary-Ellen straightened. "Haven't done a spell that big since Poppa had to escape a few of his disgruntled customers," she explained, adjusting the lacey white dress she wore. "I wasn't planning to act so soon, but my hand has been forced." Her violet eyes flicked to the frozen twins. The heart-shaped mouth curled back into a leering grin. "And I can still do a lot of damage, can't I, girls?"

It was then that the scary image appeared in Katie's mind.

* * *

Jillian emptied out her backpack to use as an additional bag and propped it beside the huge suitcase. They would need warm clothes for the girls and herself - and T-shrits and shorts if they went somewhere warm - toothbrushes, maybe some snacks, and maybe the remaining water bottles in the fridge. Should she bring some sleeping bags and pillows?

"And you're _sure_ you can contact the carnival?" she asked over her shoulder.

Slappy was collecting her jeans from her bottom drawer. "Do you doubt me?" he asked, pretending to be offended.

"And you're sure they won't mind picking us up?" she pressed, throwing in her socks.

"Are you kidding? Big Al is always looking for new members. They'll probably throw your family a parade." He chuckled a little. "I can see them using your parents to expand the Real-Life Space Display. They always need new dummies."

"At least they'll have jobs," Jillian nodded. That took care of money. Dad could still pursue carpentry, and Mom was great at sewing.

She added her markers and color pencils so that the girls would be able to draw if they wanted to. "What about Petey?" she questioned. "I can't leave him here."

"The carnival has a whole area for reptiles," Slappy reminded her. "They'll have stuff for you to take care of him."

Jillian nodded and allowed herself to smile. At least a small one. This might actually work. "Anything you want to pack?" she asked, her eyes sweeping toward him. "Oh! I should probably grab the slip of paper for you, huh?" She began to step toward the door, ready to zip to where she had hidden it, but Slappy stopped her.

"Oh, I have a feeling I won't be needing it that desperately," he grinned. "Let's focus on packing for you ladies right now."

She stuffed in both her summer and winter clothing (along with extra T-shirts for the girls to sleep in if necessary) and sucked in a breath to calm the butterflies in her stomach. No need to be nervous. Mary-Ellen had lost. They had won. Her parents would find out the truth and let Slappy stay with them. They would all go to where they would be safe, and the doll was never going to hurt her family again. She would never going to mess with her homework or destroy her things. She was defeated at long last.

No need to be nervous. Just excited.

Jillian grabbed a few more pairs of socks - the ones with the colorful lizard prints - and tossed them into the suitcase.

 _...A slave who is crippled is a slave you have to put down_.

That thought made Jillian stop, mid-throw.

She frowned, furrowing her brow.

That was weird, even for Mary-Ellen. She had to know that the twins could have died if they were stung. She was too smart not to know. If the doll were connected to one of them, wouldn't that just put her to sleep? But she had to have done it, Jillian told herself, shaking her head. Who else would… have...

...No.

No.

No. No. No.

Not that.

Not that.

Please - **_please_** \- not that.

"Something wrong, Jillian?" the dummy's hoarse voice cut into her thoughts.

Her breath was short, ice gripping her - but a fire began to spark inside her. Slowly, fists clenching, she turned to face him. "Slappy," she said, her voice trembling, "why would Mary-Ellen mess with my homework?"

He gave her a half-lidded look, dumping a stack of her short pants on the bed. "To get you in trouble. Obviously. Is it my turn to ask a stupid question?" he joked.

Her legs were shaking, but she willed herself to stand still. "And why my math homework?" she pressed - and took a small step toward the door. "That's the only class I have trouble with - but she wouldn't know that, would she?"

"You really expect me to understand how her mind works?" Slappy snorted, shaking his head. "Maybe it was because we messed with Katie's math homework. Maybe it was just a random choice. Don't be paranoid," he chided - but an odd look crossed his blue eyes.

Her heartbeat increased. "But how would she know my teacher's name?" she continued. "I have at least six. Even if she overheard my parents talking, how would she know - for _sure_ \- that Mrs. Jones taught math?"

"Maybe she just got lucky?" he shrugged - and slowly stepped away from the bed.

"But how did she reach my textbooks?" Jillian went on, inching away. "My backpack was up on my closet shelf all night, and I had it in here until I left for school. There's no way Mary-Ellen could have gotten at it." Her fists tightened. "But you could've."

His eyes narrowed. "What are you saying, Jillian?" She heard his jaw click.

She was ten steps from the door now. "You could've messed with my homework when I was asleep - and you could've used my chair to climb up and cut up my textbooks while I was fighting Mary-Ellen or when Mom yelled at me this morning. So that I would want to run away. It'd be even easier if you used your magic to help you."

"You think I can use my magic that way?" His voice was becoming soft. He took a step toward her. "I have limits, kid."

"But I know how you _can_ use it," Jillian returned tightly. Eight steps away from the door. "You can summon flies and ants. Bees would be no problem for you. It was even _your_ idea - remember?"

He tutted his nonexistent tongue, taking another careful step toward her. "Really, and here I thought you were starting to grow a brain, Jillian. What do I even gain from hurting your sisters? Why would I risk our partnership? Our _friendship_?"

"Because," she said, "if the twins died, Mary-Ellen would go back to sleep - so, I _know_ she didn't do it."

He rolled his eyes. "Because she didn't already risk their lives when she set the stove on fire. Use your head, sweetheart." His chipped lips twitched into a small smile. "You know that I'm more than a little fond of you." He took another step toward her.

She wanted to believe him. More than anything, she wanted him to be innocent - she _needed_ him to be innocent. "If you truly care about me," she choked out, "if you truly didn't do it - then let's tell Dad right now. He's downstairs. We don't even have to run away. You'll still get your favor. I promise."

His eyes narrowed. "Not happening," he growled.

"Tell my parents," she repeated. "You promised you'd tell them anyway. They'll let you be part of the family. You can stay with me forever. What do you have to lose? Tell them - and I'll believe you."

His face grew dark - making him uglier than normal. "Watch yourself, Jillian. I have been very nice to you these past few weeks, but you do _not_ want to get on my bad side." He took another step - and she shrank away. He straightened and gave a scornful laugh. "Fine, for the sake of argument, let's say I _did_ summon those bees," he sneered. "What are you going to do about it? We're tied until death, dreamy eyes. Anywhere you try to run, I will find you. Throw me away, lock me up, and my magic will free me. I will come get you - and I can't promise it will be a pleasant reunion. So, why don't we just stay friends?" he purred, his hoarse voice becoming mockingly sweet. "You'll be happier in the long run."

And then she knew - all doubt gone.

He did it. He actually did it.

The room began to spin - but she forced herself to spring away from him. "You and I are _not_ friends!" she shouted. "Not _ever_ again!"

His smile became cruel. "I don't care if you love me or hate me, Jillian. But you're stuck with me. You're my partner in this lifetime - and I believe you owe me something very precious." He advanced another step, his pace quickening.

She tensed, bracing herself. "You stay away from me," she warned. She would scream if she had to and bring Dad running - if Slappy did not get to her first.

"It's just one favor," he teased, his teetering stride becoming more deliberate. "It'll be quick, I promise. You might even like it."

"Forget it," she seethed. "I'm not doing _anything_ for you anymore!"

He snickered. "Nice try, Jillian, but you made a promise, and I _intend_ to hold you to it. Or you'll make me lose my patience, my dear."

She shuddered - and held his gaze, her fingers frantically searching behind her for the door. "And you promised satisfaction guaranteed, Slappy. Well, guess what? I'm _not_ satisfied. Deal's off."

"It doesn't work that way, little girl." Slappy was steps away from her now. "Anywhere you run, I will find you - and claim you," he growled. "We can still do this the easy way."

Her hand found the doorknob. "Follow me, and I'll cook you alive over an open flame." In the next instant, she turned and sprinted for the stairs, slamming the door behind her.

Even through the walls, she could hear his hoarse voice bellowing, " _Magic demands a price, Jillian Zinman! You WILL pay me what you owe!_ "

* * *

That little idiot! How _dare_ she defy him!

Slappy slammed his foot into the marker-covered walls, his anger mounting. He would find her - he would follow their connection and track her down to the ends of the earth if he had to. Then he would show her. He did not have to answer to anyone for his actions. He was Slappy, her lord and master, and she would recognize his power over her and everyone else. Her sisters were as much his slaves as the rest of her family, and he could do what he wanted with them - including what was necessary to get rid of that doll.

How _dare_ she threaten him!

She would pay dearly. And then some. To think of all that he had done for her! Did she not appreciate the sheer amount of _leniency_ he had granted her? He would have never allowed another slave to act so irreverently toward him, but he had let her tease him because she amused him - because she had woken him up when he had needed her - because he had allowed himself to stop thinking of her as his slave and had begun to see her as his qu -

He uttered a shrill scream and started to beat the walls, his hard fists denting the plaster.

No more games. No more delays. He would finally claim his property and his freedom - but first he would teach her a lesson. Make sure she would never cross him again. He would destroy everything she had ever loved - everything and everyone - until she had nothing left in the world.

Nothing but him.

Slappy tightened his jaw.

Then his eyes fell upon the lizard tank.

He smiled and started forward. He grabbed the chair and pushed it toward the table. "Nothing personal, Petey boy," he sweetly told the content lizard as he approached. "Don't worry. I promise I'll make this quick and painless." He chuckled. " _Relatively_ speaking."

In moments, he climbed up and stood over the cage. He slid off the glass lid - cracked from the encounter with Mary-Ellen that had started all this - and he allowed it to fall to the ground with a loud clank. Let the bald man hear it. Slappy would deal with him in due time.

Petey had started at the clatter, but now he looked up at the dummy and waddled toward his outstretched hands, no doubt looking for food. "No snacks today, buddy. How about a lo-o-ong nap instead?" Slappy tittered. His wooden fingertips brushed against the scaly head -

\- And the door promptly opened.

Slappy raised his head, grinning, expecting Mr. Zinman to be there, coming in to inspect the noise.

Instead he saw Mary-Ellen.

In her white dress.

And in her hand was the slip of paper.

"Hey, sweetie," she said with a purr. "Let's play a game."

* * *

A/N: From here on out, please put spoiler warnings in your reviews.


	14. Chapter 14

Jillian flew out the front door into the cold air, but she did not turn back to grab a jacket. She pounded down the street, not caring about the direction. Her heart felt like it was going to burst, but she gritted her teeth, pushing herself forward.

For now, she had to run.

Houses and colorful trees moved steadily past her, but she could barely see them, blurred now as warm droplets trickled down her cheeks.

Slappy tried to kill my sisters, she kept telling herself over and over. Slappy had _wanted_ to kill my sisters.

Her legs felt weak, but not from exertion.

 _Just keep running - keep running._ Slappy would follow their connection - follow her until she finally died. He would probably even catch up to her someday - but for now she could lead him far away from those she cared about. She had to put as much distance between herself and the house.

 _He tried to kill them. He tried to kill them._

"Jillian?" she heard someone call. She briefly glanced to her side - and saw Harrison standing on his front porch.

She kept running.

"Hey - ! Jillian, wait up!"

 _Not now, Harrison_. She had to keep going forward. She had not even cleared the block yet. If only her bike tires had not been slashed -

"Jillian, stop!" she heard Harrison shout again, this time closer - and his hand caught her elbow.

She tried to twist free. "Don't stop me, Harrison!" she shrieked, shoving him as hard as she could, but it was like trying to hit an elephant.

Harrison's other arm looped around her shoulder. Even as she thrashed, Jillian could tell he was carrying something, and it was making his hold on her awkward. "What's wrong?" he cried. "Did something happen?"

She gave a hysterical cry. "How can I even tell you? You'd never believe me! Just leggo! Let go, Harrison!" She gave him another shove.

Harrison's grip remained firm. "Was it… Slappy?" he whispered.

Jillian went still. Slowly, her eyes rose to meet his dark gaze. "How - ?" she choked out.

He finally released her - and then she saw that he was holding a tattered book in his hand. "When I got home from school, I went to get Slappy from the suitcase in my closet," he said softly. "But he wasn't there. Where _is_ he, Jillian?"

She swallowed. "At my house. For now."

He held up the tattered book. "So, it's true?" he asked incredulously. "Everything Jimmy O'James wrote - it's true? There's really a living dummy? We found an actual living dummy?"

Jillian could only nod.

Harrison gaped at her - but then his eyes narrowed. "Did you bring him to life?" he asked, his voice beginning to sound strange. "Did you find the slip of paper in his jacket?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "But I wish I hadn't. He's a monster."

Harrison nodded grimly. "I know. Jimmy wrote all about it." He flipped toward the end of the book. "It says here that there was this puppet maker who made evil toys," he explained. "Some toys made their owners sick with weird diseases. Other toys stole stuff or hurt their owners. The evil sorcerer got a kick out of ruining everyone's lives - not even out of revenge. Just for the fun of it. Slappy was supposed to be the most evil of them all." He stopped at a page covered in tiny, neat letters with faded blue ink. "Listen to what it says here."

"'The sorcerer loved spreading misery and evil through innocent-looking toys. The dummy named Slappy is the sorcerer's most

evil invention. He stole a coffin for its wood. He carved the dummy from the coffin wood. And then the sorcerer sent his own

evil into the dummy. The sorcerer's evil spirit lives inside Slappy, ready to be awakened by the reading of the evil words of

magic the sorcerer wrote.'"

Harrison stopped reading then, looking at her as if waiting for confirmation.

Jillian stared at the cursive letters written carefully in blue ink. Her hands began to tremble. "He told me… he told me he did not come to life until his creator died. But he never said his dad was evil. Or that he made him from a coffin." _But Dad said he was made from cheap wood_ , she realized.

...And that dummy wanted to kiss her!

Harrison, meanwhile, stared at her. "You talked to him?" he demanded. "How long has this thing been awake?"

"Long enough."

He shifted back. "So, the party...?"

She nodded. "All him."

He shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"He didn't want me to, and - " She gritted her teeth. "And I actually tried to protect him! I thought he was my friend, but he lied to me! He used me! To get his dumb favor!"

Harrison whistled. An odd expression crossed his serious face. "Do you think… Slappy was the one who called me?" he asked carefully.

Jillian threw up her hands. "I don't even know anymore!" she cried. "He has magic. Anything is possible!"

" _Real_ magic?" he breathed.

"It's not as cool as you think. And he tried to kill my family with it!" she choked out. "That's why I gotta run away, Harrison. I read the words that brought him to life. He'll follow me forever and forever and - and - "

"Wait, wait. Hold on," he said, grabbing her arm to steady her. "Listen to the rest of what Jimmy wrote." He held up the book so she could look as he read aloud.

"'I have managed somehow to put Slappy to sleep. I'm not sure how I did it. I only

care that the dummy sleeps. I tossed the dummy in the trash, to be hauled away

and crushed.'"

"There's gotta be a way to stop him, right?" Harrison pressed. "If Jimmy did it, so can we, right?"

Jillian shook her head. "I'm not going back there. Mom and the girls are going to a motel. Dad will come looking for me soon, and Slappy will be in the house by himself. I can't go back. There's nothing left back there for m - "

Then she stopped, an icy cold gripping her.

"...He wouldn't," she breathed, trembling.

"What? What's wrong?" Harrison demanded.

She turned back toward her house. "Petey," she whispered. "I left him. In the room with Slappy."

Harrison grabbed her hand before she could break into a run. "We'll get him. Don't worry." His dark eyes narrowed. "Is there anything you can think of that can stop him?"

Jillian gulped the air. "H-His brother died from a steamroller. He's afraid of fire, and - "

Harrison yanked her toward his house. "Hang on! I got an idea," he cried. He broke into a run, pulling her along.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Getting my mom's lighter," he called over his shoulder, "and a can of hairspray!"

* * *

The two tried to make as little noise as possible as they opened the storm door and crept toward the staircase. The downstairs was silent, which made the creaks of the floorboards sound that much louder. Jillian held her breath as they started up the steps and tried not to think of what they planned to do - no, what they only threatened to do, she told herself. Maybe they would not have to use force. Maybe Slappy would take one look at the lighter and surrender peacefully.

And maybe a snowball could survive in Miami.

They reached the upstairs landing. Jillian could hear her father in the master bedroom, pacing and packing. Good. Slappy had not gone after him.

Finally, they were at Jillian's door. She signaled to Harrison and counted with her fingers. _One... two…_

She threw open the door, and they burst in -

\- and saw a completely deserted room.

The glass cage was empty.

Jillian stifled a cry.

"We'll find him," Harrison promised, turning on his heel. "Both of them."

They moved as quickly as they could. Not in the twin's room (they risked a quick peek). Not in the bathroom. Not in the hall closet.

" _Downstairs_!" Jillian hissed.

The two hurried down the steps as fast as they dared.

Not in the den. Not in the living room. Not in the dining room. Not in the kitchen…

Jillian stopped in her tracks, and Harrison almost plowed into her.

One of the kitchen chairs was gone. The laundry-room door was open. And she saw Petey. On the washing machine. Laying across Slappy's lap.

* * *

"You should know," Slappy said with a cruel smirk, "the only reason this thing is still alive right now is that I felt you coming back, sweetheart." He gave her a wink. "Can't stay away, can you?"

"Slappy - Don't - " she stammered, but the dummy snickered.

"Look at your widdle Petey, Mama," he said in a high-pitched baby voice, flipping the lizard over and holding him like an infant.

The lizard let out a little shriek.

Jillian moved forward - as close as she dared. "Don't hold him on his back!" she pleaded. "He can't breath that way!"

"Your point?" the dummy retorted.

She pressed her hands together. "Slappy, don't! Please! He doesn't understand what's happening!"

"But you do, Jillian," he said nastily, but he flipped Petey back onto his stomach. "Are you gonna do what I say, or do I have to get mean?" His eyes fell on Harrison then. "What does the monkey got in his hairy hands?" he demanded angrily.

Harrison fidgeted with the lighter but did not reply.

"Throw them away, big man," the dummy ordered. "I'm not a guy you can cross lightly. It's time for Jillian to pay the piper, and you're not going to interfere, Scare-rison - or I'm gonna enjoy some lizard jerky." He brought Petey's leathery head up to his yawning mouth.

"Don't!" Jillian shrieked. "Please!"

Slappy snickered again, shuddering with delight. "Ooh, say it again. I think I like it when you beg."

"Alright, alright!" Harrison said, his voice coming out shaky as he held up the lighter and can. "I'm throwing it, okay?" He tossed them both into the sink. "Just let Petey go."

"I give the orders around here, slave," Slappy hissed. His eyes shot back to Jillian. "Do I finally have your undivided attention, doll face?"

Jillian nodded. Her legs were trembling, and she had to grab the doorframe to stand, but she met the dummy's cruel gaze. "What do you want, Slappy?"

The sneer widened. "Just you."

"What do you mean?" she asked softly.

His blue eyes flashed. "I'm sick of meatbags putting me to sleep," he growled. "I'm sick of humans and pyscho dolls shoving animals inside me or being able to put tools to my body while I can do nothing about it. I want out, kid. I want my freedom, but magic demands a price. A big price. One only a human can pay for me."

Jillian swallowed. "The favor."

"Ding! Ding! Ding! Give the lovely lady a prize," he smirked. "But this is the mother of all favors, kiddo. For me to get what I want, _you_ have to give something up that's of equal value. A life for a life."

Her body tightened. "So, you want to kill me?"

He tutted his nonexistent tongue. "No, no, no. Something much more... _pleasurable_ than that. A 'life' can mean many things, Jillian: a social life, family life, career life, financial life." He stroked Petey's head. The lizard tried to squirm away, but he readjusted his grip, pressing the poor animal against his chest.

"What do I have to do?" she asked faintly.

His eyes were growing more fixated. "For me to be alive, always, a maid must first give up her life as a human and everything that means - all possible dreams, all possible careers, all possible human _husbands_ and the children they could give her. Then, forsaking all others, she must speak the ancient vows that will tie her to me and turn her body into a doll."

"...A doll?" she repeated faintly.

Slappy nodded his grinning head. "The union will be strong enough that I'll never be put to sleep again, and that lucky girl will be joined to me forever - as my wife."

Her blood became ice.

Harrison made a choking sound beside her. "You don't mean - "

"Today is my wedding day," Slappy said, his eyes ablaze with excitement, "and I want my bride!"

Jillian could only stare.

"B-But she's just a kid!" Harrison sputtered.

"So?" Slappy demanded. "In a few moment she won't be a child or an adult. She'll just be a doll - _MY_ doll." His grin was spreading wider.

Finally, Jillian found her voice. " _That_ was the favor? This whole time?"

Slappy tittered. "I said you'd never have to do something you weren't physically capable of. You certainly can get married, can't you, sweetheart?"

"You - You little - " She moved her mouth, but sound failed her - as if there were even words to describe this - this -

"You'll learn to love being a doll, Jillian," Slappy said companionably. "Really, who's doing who the real favor here? You won't die of old age. You won't ever starve or get sick or go to school. You won't have to answer to anyone - except to me. On top of all that, you'll be married to the most devilishly handsome dummy who will be powerful enough to rule over all the filthy meat bags outside that door. I might even let you have a tiny, tiny bit of power - if you're nice to me. Very nice," he purred.

Her stomach felt like a rock. "You're insane."

"Probably," he quipped. "But you really have no choice, you know. Unless you prefer the life of a single woman - minus one lizard." He raised Petey until the struggling lizard was just a few inches from his mouth. His eyes dared her to challenge him.

Jillian's gaze fell upon the little creature she had raised since he was just a baby. His yellow eyes were filled with panic. She swallowed hard. "Why me?" she whispered.

Slappy gave her a half-lidded look. "Do you have to ask?"

Harrison made a sound. "I should never have pulled you from that trash can," he breathed.

Slappy sneered. "Hindsight is twenty-twenty, ape."

Jillian looked again at the grinning dummy and tried to imagine her life as a doll: pretending to be lifeless whenever anyone was in the room, walking with her knees locked because she had no bones, never again being able to go outside during the day. Then she tried to think of how being married to that evil puppet would be like: waking up beside him every morning, following him wherever he went, putting up with his violent temper without being able to outrun him, allowing him to kiss her whenever he wanted…

"Slappy, please…" she pleaded.

But she saw no mercy in his wooden face. "Either way, you're going to say good-bye to Petey today," he said. "As much as you like him, we're not staying here after we're married, and he'll just get underfoot - but I'm sure your family will take care of him. Or they will help you bury him. Make your choice."

Harrison grabbed her arm. "Don't throw your life away for a lizard, Jillian!"

"Hands off her, ape!" Slappy snarled, and Harrison immediately jumped back. The dummy's eyes shot back to Jillian. "I don't have all day, doll. Make up your mind!" His death grip tightened, causing the little lizard to scream.

"Alright, alright!" she cried, her mind racing. Maybe she could stall somehow, and then, when his grip loosened, she would grab Petey and throw the puppet into a ditch somewhere. Then - then - then... she would start running again. Keep him far, far away from her family.

She straightened her shoulders. "I'll _marry_ you, Slappy," she said, trying to keep her voice strong. "I'll be your bride. Just don't hurt Petey."

His smile returned, and he motioned with one hand. "Pick me up," he ordered. "We're going on a little walk first before we tie the knot, wife. Then Harrison can return your lizard for you and give your last regards to your family. And _we'll_ go off on our honeymoon."

She nodded grimly. Just the thought of touching that cruel mannequin now made her sick to her stomach, but she had to do it - had to keep him distracted. For Petey. For her family. She stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and collected him into her arms in a bridal carry.

Slappy tilted his grinning head upward. "You know this is what you were made for," he purred, nudging her shoulder. Jillian turned and started for the back door.

But before she could take more than five steps, a scream exploded behind her.

" _LET GO OF HIM, YOU LITTLE TRAMP!_ "

Jillian spun around to see Mary-Ellen storming toward them from the hall.

* * *

"She's alive too?!" Harrison cried, gaping.

The frizzy-haired doll ignored him and stomped toward the dummy and girl. The violet eyes were blazing with fury. "I offer you power, and here you are degrading yourself with HER?" the doll screeched. A plastic hand came up and yanked Slappy's ankle, hauling him out of Jillian's arms.

Slappy landed on the tile floor with a loud _THUD_ , and Petey bolted from his arms, obviously shaken but unharmed. He was normally slow, but he wasted no time scurrying under the table.

The doll roughly hauled Slappy to his feet and reached into his pocket - and yanked out the aged slip of paper. "That flesh girl is _not_ your bride. _**I**_ am!" she screamed in his face.

"He's all yours," Jillian said quickly, taking a step back from the two. She grabbed Harrison's arm. Now that Petey was safe, what reason did she have to stick around? "Have a nice honeymoon."

Slappy glared at the enraged doll. "Now, look what you did!" he snarled, shoving her away, but Mary-Ellen held tight onto his sports jacket, clenching the slip of paper in her other fist.

"Take a look at yourself!" she roared. "The great masterpiece pining for an _animal_!"

"She's mine to pine for," Slappy retorted.

The violet eyes flashed. "I offer you my friendship - my power - my hand. All the things you need to rule, and you slam your fist into my head and stuff me in a closet!" It was then Jillian saw that one of the red circles on Mary-Ellen's cheeks had a nasty dent in it. Her now wrinkled white dress even had a smudge on it.

Slappy sneered. "Bought me a few minutes, didn't it?" Jillian could tell he was trying to act unperturbed, but his blue eyes darted to the side as if looking for an escape route.

Mary-Ellen held up the slip of paper in front of his wooden nose. "You have no choice," she snarled. "You can either have me, or I'll put you to sleep and tear this up. She won't ever wake you up again."

Slappy glowered at her but said nothing.

Mary-Ellen tugged on his jacket and turned to Jillian and Harrison. "All of you, come with me," she ordered.

Jillian held up her hands. "Look, you two can go off and get married. I'm just gonna leave."

The heart-shaped mouth formed a cruel sneer. "But don't you want to see a doll marriage? Your sisters are already in the wedding party."

A chill ran up her back. "Don't you dare - " she choked.

The doll just pointed to the door. "Go."

Jillian swallowed, clenching her fists, and stepped past the two dolls, Harrison on her heels, and descended into the basement.

* * *

She had not even gone half way when she heard Mary-Ellen snarl, "You too!" The next sound was that of a wooden body falling down the steps, and Slappy tumbled past her. The dummy landed in a heap, uttering a pained groan, but Jillian stopped herself in time from asking if he was alright. In the next moment she got a clear view of the rec room - where Katie and Amanda were sitting in the center, each tied up with a jump rope.

Jillian rushed toward them and -

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Mary-Ellen barked as she reached the middle step. "Unless you're really not that interested in seeing tomorrow."

Jillian stopped short and whirled around. "Where's my mom?" she demanded.

"Gone, but unhurt," Mary-Ellen said coolly, still descending. "I think I'll keep her on as my personal chef. If you want me to extend the rest of your family that kindness, you'll step away from the girls."

Jillian did not move.

The doll's eyes narrowed further. "Test me," Mary-Ellen growled. "See what happens."

Jillian took a deep breath and stepped closer to Harrison by the wall.

Neither of her sisters were gagged, but both had their heads down, silent as graves. Jillian could see Amanda was struggling not to sob.

"Oh, sure, you can boss a few kids around," Slappy said dryly, dusting off his frayed jacket. "That just _guarantees_ you'll be able to control the masses."

"Do be quiet, _Robbie_ ," Mary-Ellen sneered, hopping off the last step.

Slappy glowered at her. "Don't call me that," he said through his wooden teeth.

"Why not?" she retorted. "You were named for Poppa, and it suits you better than 'Slappy' anyway. Whatever possessed you to take such a ridiculous name?" she demanded. "You were meant to be a _king_ , you know."

"Like 'Lil' Robbie' is better for a master of evil?" the dummy snapped.

Jillian could see Harrison glancing from one toy to the other. "You two... know each other?" he asked faintly.

"We more than _know_ each other, stupid," Mary-Ellen sneered, clutching the dummy's wooden arm and yanking him toward the twins. "We were given to each other - by the very man that made us."

"The evil sorcerer," Jillian said softly, nudging Harrison's arm.

Mary-Ellen jerked a nod before she turned to Slappy. "Poppa built each of his children with a unique purpose and a unique magic to spread misery and evil on all mankind. _Your_ purpose, darling, is to rule. _My_ purpose is to make sure you _continue_ to rule. As your bride."

"I never agreed to that!" Slappy growled. "He had no right to make that decision."

The plastic glower deepened. "If you actually _knew_ him, Robbie, you wouldn't be so picky," Mary-Ellen shot back. "Poppa had a beautiful vision of evil that could last for a thousand lifetimes." Her high-pitched voice was becoming shriller. "If you had ever witnessed a _moment_ of the genius that gave you life, you would know that we were meant to be together. _**I**_ was faithful to him, and he's rewarded me beyond the grave - with you, Robbie. My groom."

"I'm the masterpiece," Slappy spat back. "You're an ugly rag doll. He'd never tie me to you."

"Do you think it's a coincidence that we met?" she demanded, grabbing his lapels. "I was at his bedside when he took his last breath. I was a just lowly doll, a handmaiden, but I stood by him. He promised me that if I were truly evil - if I could prove I could be a queen and take slaves of my own, then his magic would guide me to one of his two dummy sons. My husband." In her white dress, she looked the part of a jilted bride, jealous, cruel...

...And properly distracted. Jillian nudged Harrison, jerking her head toward the stairs, and began to inch toward the girls. She held one her finger to her mouth as Katie looked up.

" _ **I**_ saw your flier for the Little Theater show," Mary-Ellen continued, shaking the dummy. " _ **I**_ had the girls make Jillian promise to take us. Then the ventriloquist called _us_ up to the stage. You wound up at _my_ house. And here you are, my love. Not that redhead, Lil' Lawrence, but you, Lil' Robbie. The one I had always hoped for. Here. On our wedding day. Finally mine."

"No way! No way!" the dummy growled, but Mary-Ellen brandished the yellowed piece of paper at him once more.

"See if I won't do it!" she warned. "Or maybe I'll just keep you asleep for a few decades and only bring your body out when I want to look at you, and then - _stop moving before I break both your legs, slave!_ " Mary-Ellen screeched.

Jillian froze in place, five feet away from Katie.

"Don't get any bright ideas, or you'll be sorry," the doll growled.

Jillian held up her hands. "Look, marry him. Be his bride," she said, daring to take one step toward the doll. "I'll even find you a ring. Just let the girls go. We won't bother you. We won't tell anyone. You two can go off and be evil wherever you want - just don't hurt anyone here."

Mary-Ellen let out a dark chuckle. "Stupid girl. A bride needs her bridesmaids." She then glanced thoughtfully at Harrison. "I suppose the boy can work as your best man, Robbie."

The look on Slappy's face could have buried the doll.

Mary-Ellen just laughed. "Typical bachelor," she mocked. "But you'll learn to love it, sweetie."

Harrison took a little step forward. "So, if we're here, if we help you get married, you won't hurt the girls?" he asked carefully, his dark eyes shooting between the two toys.

"A queen needs her servants," Mary-Ellen returned, "and a marriage needs its witnesses." She looked at Slappy again, an almost tender look forming in her hard eyes, but she continued to speak to Harrison. "There is a pleasant little spell Poppa had planned - well, pleasant for Robbie and me, anyway. Not so much for you chimps. When the masterpiece and his bride are joined, we'll be able to cast a spell strong enough for us to rule over humans. A fitting price for this magic: two becoming one, don't you think, my love?" she asked Slappy. "You wouldn't be able to harness that kind of magic by marrying THAT one, I can tell you."

Slappy opened his mouth, but Jillian quickly jumped in. "So, why do you need _us_ , Mary-Ellen? Specifically?"

Mary-Ellen gave her a condescending look. "I told you, moron. We need witnesses. The more witnesses, the more potency." She shook her brown head. "It's a shame we couldn't have done this during the birthday party. All those guests and no parents to interfere. Oh, well. The spell will still work with four." Her heart-shaped mouth became a cruel smile. "But it can also work with just three."

Jillian stiffened.

She gripped Slappy's arm then, shooting him a withering glare. "She will be our slave for the rest of her life - however long you decide that is. Maybe I can't stop you from looking, but you will never touch her - or she's dead. I don't believe in polygamy, Robbie. _Or_ concubines."

A strange smile formed on Slappy's face. "Kid, you are evil through and through," he said, patting her plastic hand. "I can see now why the old man chose you. He definitely would have wanted the two of us to hit it off."

A sweet smile appeared on Mary-Ellen's face - which promptly vanished as his wooden arm came up and struck her on the jaw.

Mary-Ellen crumpled to the floor with a groan.

Slappy sneered. "But I can just _HIT_ you instead." He drew his foot back - and rammed it into her heart-shaped mouth.

And again.

...And again.

Mary-Ellen moaned, but it came out muffled from her damaged mouth.

"Sorry, could you repeat that?" Slappy returned nastily. "Couldn't quite make it out." He threw his head back and gave a shrill cackle.

He gave her one last kick, this time in her side, and finally moved away from the doll - but in two steps he grabbed Amanda.

Jillian took a step toward him. "Slappy, don't!" she choked out.

He was already nearly the size of the girls, and with Amanda on the floor, it was easy for him to latch his hard arm around her little neck and hold her in a tight headlock. Amanda let out a whimper.

"Now, Jillian," the dummy growled, "you can be a doll bride - or an only child. Your choice."

She did not even pause. "No choice," she said quietly. She stepped forward.

Eyes ablaze with triumph, he held out his hand, and she silently accepted it. "Don't worry, my bride. You'll learn to love married life. Our kids will be carved from the finest blocks of cursed wood - a chip off the old block! Now, repeat after me," he commanded, and he began to chant a string of strange words. " _Eeha meha uluta mah allatah_."

Just the sound of the foreign words sent ice coursing through her veins, but Jillian braced herself and repeated them - and the next line - and the one after that. Each syllable weighed heavily on her tongue, and she was aware that her limbs were beginning to stiffen. "I feel strange," she murmured.

"Keep going," Slappy urged with a happy hiss. "Almost done, wife. _Petah alla_ \- " But that was as far as he got. Suddenly, his hand released hers, and he uttered a cry - as he was yanked away from Amanda by Mary-Ellen. He hit the floor with a groan, and the doll's plastic fists assaulted him as she swung herself on top of him.

Jillian did not think. She dropped beside Amanda and yanked at the knots, and Harrison attacked Katie's bonds as the two toys began to wrestle across the floor. Jillian forced herself to focus on the jump rope, but the crashes of the dolls were heartstopping as they screamed, wrestled, thrashed, bit, punched, and slammed each other against walls from one end of the basement to the other.

 _C'mon. C'mon. C'mon_ , she urged her slowly unstiffening fingers as they tugged the ropes back through the tight knots. Finally, the cords around the little wrists began to loosen, and Jillian yanked as hard as she could - just as the violent fight spilled into Dad's workshop.

She turned to Harrison, who was almost done with Katie's hands, but both girls still were bound at the ankles. "We gotta get out of here!" she cried, wrapping her arms around Amanda's torso to haul her up the stairs. She motioned for Harrison to do the same with Katie - and then came the scream of the table saw.

Jillian released Amanda and jumped to her feet. She heard Harrison shout something, but her feet were moving without her telling them, and in five bounding steps she was in the doorway. In time to see everything.

In time to see… Slappy holding a struggling Mary-Ellen against the table and… shove her… through the spinning blade. The wheel shrieked as it…

...sliced her body in two.

Her bottom half dropped to the floor with a thud… and time seemed to catch up.

Jillian could only stare as Slappy turned from the table, facing her. His smile spread, his cruel eyes glittering with victory - and that something else.

She backed away.

She saw him throw back his head, his mouth stretching in a cruel cackle, audible even above the saw, and he promptly took a step toward her -

\- And no more. Suddenly, Slappy's grin vanished, and his eyes bulged with horror, and Jillian saw…

...Mary-Ellen's arm still gripping Slappy.

With one great heave, the doll pulled his slender body toward her - right into the sawblade - right across the waist.

The saw screamed again, and both of his halves fell to the floor.

* * *

Heart pounding, Jillian mechanically stepped to the table and flipped off the switch. The shrill whine ceased, and the whirling blade slowly rolled to a stop.

She stared at the top half of the dummy, lying still on the floor where it had fallen, but instead of a look of anguish, his default smile had returned. She stepped closer on trembling legs. Bent down. Reached for him.

Was he…?

Her fingertips touched his chest -

\- And in a flash the wooden hand shot out at her.

"Jillian, watch out!" Harrison cried behind her, and instantly his thick arms yanked her away.

The small hand made one last grab at the air, clutching nothing. Then it fell to the floor.

The dummy went still.

"Are you okay?" she heard Harrison say.

Jillian could only stare. Stare at the blank eyes, frozen in a look of cruel anger that made his eternal smile unsettling.

"He's gone, Jillian," Harrison said in her ear, gripping her shoulder.

She was vaguely aware of feet thundering down the steps. "What's going on down here?!" came her father's voice, but he seemed to be speaking far away. "Why was the saw on?!"

No one replied.

Jillian could not tear her eyes from the torn torso. Cold blue eyes stared back at her. Lifeless. Still.

"Jillian?" Harrison whispered. His arms were still around her.

"Jillian?" Dad said, much more stern.

Wordlessly, she stepped away from Harrison and knelt down. Her fingers brushed against the smooth, painted cheek. She expected him to spring to life again - to sit up and pull himself together with magic - to give her a wink like he always did… always had.

But he was gone. He had lied to her, manipulated her, tried to force her to marry him, almost killed her sisters - and now he was finally gone.

Slappy was gone.

The twins were safe. Her family was safe.

She was free.

...So, it made absolutely no sense that she broke down sobbing over the little body.

* * *

A/N: Please, put spoiler warnings in your reviews.

Waaaaaaaay back in chapter 5, I had to stop and ask myself just why Slappy would be attracted to a human girl in the first place (besides "she's pretty" or "she's his canon love interest"). The answer I got was, "Because she looks like a doll." So, I Googled for "green-eyed doll", and this image popped up, which matches Jillian's book description pretty closely (thin girl with straight, black hair and round green eyes): pinterest (dotcom) / pin/306948530829832529/ So, this is how I imagine Jillian would look if she were a doll (and how Slappy sees her).


	15. Chapter 15

Jillian dumped her suitcase into the back of the car. Dad was still demanding to know what they had been doing in the basement, and Mom had called frantically from a payphone at Wal-Mart once she saw the twins were not with her. Jillian had no clue what they were going to tell them.

She slung her backpack in next - with all its mutilated textbooks - and turned, hearing the crackle of the gravel driveway. She looked in time to see Harrison step up to her. He had an odd expression on his face. He touched her arm and leaned forward. "I took care of the bodies," he whispered in her ear.

The bodies…

Jillian looked away and jerked a nod. She did not trust herself to speak.

Harrison took her hand, and Jillian walked with him back into the house. She had not realized just how much she had missed him since Saturday.

They stepped into the front hall. Jillian could hear Dad bustling around in the kitchen, gathering non-perishable snacks for the family to eat at the motel.

"Are you okay?" Harrison asked, squeezing her fingers.

Jillian shrugged and grabbed the next bag to take to the car.

A creak of floorboards made her turn, and she saw the twins coming in from the den. Katie was moving carefully - and Jillian saw that she was holding Petey. "We found him!" she announced proudly. "Under the couch!"

"Dad says we're gonna sneak him into the motel so he's not here by himself," Amanda promised. She gave the lizard a pat on the head, her previous misgivings toward the reptile seemingly forgotten.

Jillian nodded and reached out to stroke the little scaly head. "Thanks, guys."

Katie gave her a toothy grin, holding her reptilian nephew up. "I'm the one who found him."

"Well, I helped!" Amanda retorted, giving her a shove. Petey jostled in Katie's arms, but he did not seem to mind.

"Can you guys put him in the shoebox for me?" Jillian asked quickly before a wrestling match could break out.

Both girls nodded and turned toward the stairs, starting up carefully.

A strange feeling came over Jillian as she watched them go. "Hey, girls?" she called after them.

Katie and Amanda stopped midway and turned with curious expressions.

She looked at the identical faces and made herself smile. "I love you, guys - you know that?"

Amanda nodded. "We know."

"We love you too," Katie said.

Her sisters continued upstairs.

Jillian swallowed hard.

She felt a thick hand against her back. "Walk me to the door?" Harrison suggested kindly.

She nodded. "Sure."

They both stepped out onto the front porch, and Harrison guided her to the patio table. She sat without a word, barely noticing the frigid seat. Harrison pulled his chair close and sat too, his knees touching hers.

She gazed numbly at the chair beside her - and she could see Slappy sitting there, chuckling darkly over sabotaging Katie's homework. She felt the lump return to her throat and looked away.

Harrison laid a hand on her arm. "You were really broken up earlier," he said slowly.

She gave a shrug.

"Was it bad, living with him?"

She looked at her hands. "No," she said at last, her voice coming out in a whisper. Her fingers curled into fists. "But he was only pretending to be nice to get his favor. So that he could live forever. He was never my friend."

Harrison shifted a little. "If it helps," he said softly, "it looked to me like he really didn't want Mary-Ellen hurting you." He slid his thick fingers into her grip, and she allowed him to hold her hand. "At least he got rid of her for you."

She shuddered a little and pushed the memory away. "Yes, he did," she whispered.

He took her other hand now, his thumbs gently rubbing against each wrist. "And a deal is a deal, partner," he rasped.

Jillian looked up, frowning.

In a flash Harrison yanked her out of her chair, pulling her into a tight hug - and smooshed his mouth against hers. Hard. One thick arm tightened around her waist while his other hand gripped the back of her head, preventing her from breaking away.

Jillian's now freed fists pounded against his chest, but he paid no heed. His muscular arms held her in place, and his huge legs deftly wrapped around her as she thrashed in his embrace, her screams muffled against his thick lips.

Finally, he released her with a giggle, and she sprang to her feet, wiping her mouth. "Harrison Cohen, what is _wrong_ with y - " she started to shriek, but then she stopped cold, staring.

Harrison had dark serious eyes, a chocolatey brown that glowed whenever his large face broke into a friendly smile - but now they were blue. An icy blue. Filled with mocking laughter.

She swallowed, though her mouth had gone dry. She took a step back. "Slappy?" she whispered.

His grin widened. "In the flesh, doll."

THE END

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please put spoiler warnings in your reviews.

If you want to see another Slappy fanfic, check out _The Doll and the Dummy_ , my AU for _Slappy's Nightmare_. If you want to understand part of my thought process in writing Slappy, check out bunnjoyce (put a dot here) deviantart (dotcom) / journal / Writing-Slappy-from-Goosebumps-to-be-a-Creeper-603863099

The book ends with Slappy body-possessing Jillian. The TV episode ends with Slappy possessing Harrison. I suppose I could've surprised you guys and had Slappy end up inside Petey, but I thought it was fitting that the puppet lover became a puppet himself.

If you had read the book or seen the episode - or read Slappy's Wikipedia article - you probably already guessed WHAT Slappy's favor was going to be, but I wanted to explore WHY he wanted it so much. In the book, Slappy is unconscious for two weeks. From his POV, he saw Jillian in the dressing room, was knocked out by Jimmy, was waken by Mary-Ellen and agreed to hide in the suitcase containing Maxie - and then the suitcase was opened by the _**exact**_ same girl that was in the dressing room. Less than five minutes later he demands a bride. Either Jillian is just _that_ pretty, or he wanted to get married for other reasons, a la _Beetlejuice_ (or a mixture of both, as this fanfic explores).

Yeah, so Slappy's canon love interest is a preteen birthday clown. I'd like to see them address _that_ in the next film.

Zach: Child brides. Really?

Stine: It was _supposed_ to be creepy!

A special thanks to WendyLeaf for reviewing _every_ chapter since I first posted this fic back in November!


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